Close Encounters 17
by chezchuckles
Summary: On the Secret Service. After Kate Beckett's encounter with Senator Bracken, she and Castle must face the fallout.
1. Chapter 1

**Close Encounters 17: On the Secret Service**

* * *

_for cartographical,_  
_my very own little jungle parasite,_  
_whose story it is anyway_

* * *

It wasn't home, but it would have to do.

Kate settled stiffly into the chair in the spacious living room and surveyed the layout of their cover apartment. On an sports agent's accountant's salary, her husband Richard Rodgers did fairly well for himself; they apparently collected a few nice art pieces, had expensive furniture, bought expensive spring water in glass bottles.

The living area offered large windows to the city beyond, while the master bedroom was off the hallway to the right. A second room was set up as a study just before it, but it could easily have been a guest room. The kitchen was to the left of the front door, just beyond a seating area that included a gas fireplace. Since it was an open floor plan, the dining room merged seamlessly between the living room and kitchen.

Modern, spacious for the city, a little room to grow.

She liked it, strangely enough. She liked the whole place. It seemed right for a woman who'd found love with an accountant, a woman who'd left behind all her dark places.

"I hate it," Castle called out from the bedroom.

She tried not to laugh; it hurt too much. Her ribs were hot knife points into her vital organs. "Oh, sweetheart. That's because it doesn't have a panic room."

"Exactly," he said with relish, coming down the hall and into the living room with the dog at his heels. "How the hell are we supposed to get any sleep?"

She didn't expect to be spending the night - they'd arrest her soon enough - but she didn't say that. "I'm sure we'll think of something," she murmured.

He sank down onto the arm of her chair and she felt it shudder ominously. "Get off, super spy," she laughed. "You're gonna break the chair."

He gave the chair a scowl and stood up again, turned to Kate once more. "Get up, then. Sit somewhere I can get close."

She grunted, tried to keep the laughter from cracking her ribs. "Fine. Then help me up. I can barely move."

"You did too much," he murmured, suddenly soft, all the bluster gone from his voice. He eased her upright, took her weight as he got her to her feet. "You should rest. Sleep if you can. I've got ice packs. I may only be an accountant, but I still know how to take care of you."

She melted into him, caught off-guard by the tenderness. She'd been steeling herself for battle this morning, armoring her heart and her hope against the reality of her situation, but he'd just knocked it all down, found the darkest, most vulnerable part of her.

"I love you," she murmured.

He cupped the back of her head and pressed in as close as he seemed to dare, but she didn't care about her ribs. She wedged herself into his arms, as tightly as she could, even if it hurt. He brushed a kiss to her forehead, traveled down her eyelid and her cheek, like he couldn't reassure himself about her continued existence.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for taking care of me."

His grip tightened reflexively, making it hurt, but she needed that too. His kiss dusted across her lips and he sighed. "When we're done with this, when it's settled out, I want to take you away."

"Away?"

"For - fun," he garbled, like the words were strange in his mouth. "A second honeymoon or - just - I want to love you right."

"You do," she assured him, trying to press closer, closer. It wasn't enough and she knew she kept accidentally flinching. "You love me just right, Castle." She curled her arms in against him, her cheek brushing his. "But I won't say no to some fun."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere?" she asked.

"Anywhere. Anything. Any-"

She laughed and curled her fingers in his dress shirt; he'd dressed up for this. Like he had to make a good impression, the accountant husband. "Then Cyprus. We were interrupted last time."

"You got so drunk," he laughed. The sound bounced around in the space, echoing, and she could see how her alias liked this apartment so much. It filled up when he laughed.

"I may have been buzzed," she allowed.

"You were drunk. Happy drunk."

"You made me happy; the drunk was incidental."

He grunted, appreciating that one, apparently, and he finally released his too-tight embrace, though he didn't let go. "Okay. Cyprus. We'll celebrate - without the drinking - and be plenty happy." His thumb was skimming a circle around her belly button.

"I'm happy now," she said. And yes, she couldn't breathe deeply and it hurt to just stand here, but she actually was.

He stared at her a long moment and then his hands cupped her jaw and he kissed her. He kissed her like she had something special and he was hoping to find it too.

* * *

Castle broke down the layout for his wife, but he made her stay on the living room couch, brought in the pieces of their security system for her inspection. Sasha stayed with her, the puppy's head in her lap as if to weigh her down, keep her there.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that everything was unraveling, falling apart around him despite his best efforts.

"Espo is right next door with surveillance on the roof, the hallway, the elevators, the lobby, and the entrances. There is roof access and escape if necessary." He handed her the schematic on his phone. "You press this and you get to see what he sees."

"It's like a portable panic room," she murmured, lifting her face to give him a wink.

"Not even close," he growled. Panic room meant _safe_ and closed up and no one could get to them. This was just knowing who was coming to take Kate - and he didn't like that. "The couch here converts, so does the coffee table."

"Converts... into a bed?"

He snorted and sat down, landing hard on the padded ottoman the security schematic called a coffee table. He thumped his fist into it and heard the echo of steel. "It's reinforced, holds an arsenal. So does that couch you're sitting on. Trigger release is on the phone, or you can fumble around underneath. Let me show you."

He stood once more, ran his fingers under the lip of the padded ottoman. It came open silently and he raised the lid, showed her how to detach it to use it as makeshift shielding. In the base were the weapons stored for easy access, everything ready to go, and he brought one out carefully.

"A Glock," she murmured, rousing. He watched her sit upright and take the weapon from him, handling the matte black semi-auto with precision. Even with her ribs so bruised she could barely breathe, Kate Beckett was adept; she was a professional and paying strict attention, and he knew he could count on her if the worst happened.

She had his back.

"Four more in here, as well as an automatic shotgun."

"I miss ours at home," she sighed. "The one we brought back from the Congo. That piece handles so smoothly."

"This one has a catch at the trigger," he admitted. "Designed that way - to make you hesitate and think about it or some shit."

She smiled at him, that slow smile of heat and suggestive behavior, and he had to take the weapon back from her before he got too caught up in it.

"All right. Enough of that, Beckett. Now. The couch does the same," he muttered, replacing the Glock. She did this to him every time - how easily he fell into wanting her. It seemed to be worse now because he couldn't touch her without hurting her ribs, like wanting what he couldn't have.

His phone buzzed suddenly in Kate's hands, making her flinch. Castle stroked the side of her neck in apology, taking the phone from her to check the ID. "It's Mason."

He answered, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder so he could offer Kate a hand. The dog jumped off the couch, and Castle helped Kate upright even as Mason started in on it.

"Fuck, man. What the hell? I come home to this?"

"Mase. It's just kind of a-"

"Fucking mess. You saved my ass in Prague - me and Marin both - and so we owe you. I'm here. Whatever you need. Mitch says you're at the apartment. I'll come spell the new guy, take a turn on watch."

"Mason, we're-"

"I got this. You're covered." And then the phone clicked off. Castle met Kate's eyes with a shake of his head.

"Mason's coming?" she smiled.

"Yeah, sounds like it. I don't know where his wife is. Or if she even came in with him."

"I'd like to meet her, if she's in. He's a little hot-headed, but he's a good man."

"Sure," Castle grumbled, but he helped Kate get her balance and then nudged her towards the bedroom. "I'll show you the features in the bedroom."

"You're just trying to trick me into bed."

"Do I have to trick you to get you into bed?"

She would have bumped his hip or nudged his shoulder, he knew, but because she couldn't, she pinched his elbow instead, the skin right above where it was sensitive. He hissed and shot her a dirty look for it, found her laughing at him silently.

"You never even _tried_ the tricks," she told him. "You just bullied your way in."

* * *

She woke alone with a shout, panic skittering down her ribs and made her breath too short.

"Hey, you're okay," he murmured, crawling into bed with her.

She clutched hard at his shirt, bewildered by the dream and the way it burst across her vision even now.

"Kate, hey, what is it?" He was drawing an arm under her neck and tugging her into place where he wanted her. "Tell me. You need to talk about it."

_No._

Still the horror was scalding, a thing she couldn't flinch away from, not now. Castle was trying to be easy about her ribs and she didn't need easy - she needed hard. Something to jar her awake.

"You were having a dream," he said. "I could hear you all the way from the kitchen."

That was a shove in the right direction. She fixed her eyes on him and let it out of her mouth. "He died right in front me. Malone died right in front of me."

"I'm so sorry, Kate," he whispered. His forehead came down to hers and his hand to the back of her head, so heavy. She slid her knee between on his on the bed and tried to find a place that didn't hurt with every breath.

Talk, keep talking. Find words for it because already it was dragging her back into sleep and she couldn't do that again.

"Mal was - like a little brother," she rasped. "Kind of a dork. And happy, and always trying to please me. And then he'd do some annoying thing and be all proud of himself. He came up to me on the sidewalk out of breath because he'd been hurrying. Hurrying to meet me."

She fell silent, heard the whimper in her throat she couldn't contain. Castle's fingers curled in her hair, cupping her neck, the pressure building behind her eyes. It was too bright for this, still only one in the afternoon, such a beautiful blue sky coming in through the window over his shoulder.

"What else, Kate?" he murmured. "Tell me."

"He had some printouts in a satchel. That's all. Just printouts with misspellings we'd found and wanted clarification. But he was so eager to do it right. He put them in a locked case. It - it saved my life."

"How's that?" Castle husked. His voice was right at her cheekbone, his body a wall before her, his arms around her to keep her off her bad hip. She was trapped. It felt good to be caught.

"Bracken was worried it had something important. Some damning piece of evidence. And he wanted me to open it. They weren't going to keep my alive for long, but it was just enough time to get my hands free. Malone saved my life."

He let out a ragged breath at her jaw and nudged his nose against hers, his cheek scraping as his kiss grazed her ear.

"I saw him shot in front of me," she whispered. "He was - so surprised. And then the blood bloomed so big on his chest that I remember thinking it had to be a Springfield Rifle because the entrance wound was so - he bled so much."

Castle grunted and his grip at her neck made her suck in a too-deep breath, the ache everywhere now, every bone, and deeper. She hoped, suddenly - like a blaze of fire in the darkness - that the ache didn't touch the little thing curled inside her. She didn't want the baby to feel this.

"It was a .45-70," he confirmed. "Accuracy of about 300 yards, unless it's a professional sniper, then maybe 600. Prelim ballistics suggest drive-by, shooting on approach from the SUV that came up behind you."

Over before it had started.

She nodded, her hand gripping his forearm, trying to ride out the agony that had built between her ribs just as clearly as the ache pressing deeper. It could've been her - a poorer shot wouldn't have taken into account the rainbow effect to the bullet's trajectory or perhaps misjudged it, and she'd be the one on the sidewalk in blood.

"I don't want to think about it," she moaned.

His fingers pressed between her vertebrae, bumping along her spine at her neck. "Then don't. Don't, love. I just - I'm glad to hear it, to know, and I think it's better out. Not trapped inside."

Instinctively, her response was _no_. But she'd been so long in therapy now that she knew how to drag it out of herself and offer it up. And maybe it helped, having Castle share the weight of Malone's blood blooming like a rose on his chest.

Maybe sharing the burden would keep it from weighing down and drowning the fragile thing inside her.

* * *

She dozed with him that afternoon, and she thought maybe he actually had fallen asleep a few times under her. He wasn't soft by any means, but he was strangely comfortable. The mattress was just like their own at home, but her body ached too badly to let her have meaningful sleep.

Sasha came and went, not looking happy about the strange-smelling apartment, but she jostled the bed whenever she jumped up with them, and it startled Kate awake every time. Castle would pet them both, Kate as if to keep her settled and the dog in greeting.

She woke once in the middle of some kind of paralyzing nightmare, grateful when it didn't cling, and she shifted away from Castle, overheated. She knew then that he'd fallen asleep - and deeply - because his arm flexed around her ribs and made her breath catch, but he was too out of it to hold on to her. She slid out of bed trying not to wake him - or the pain lying in wait in her bones.

Sasha jumped down with her, rubbing against Kate's leg as she padded ahead of her through the hallway. Kate moved slowly, getting water from the fridge, and finally came back to the bed. She was restless and her ribs ached, so she stayed upright, sipping her water, and Sasha looked up at her from the floor as if equally unsettled.

Kate found herself drawn to the news from the outside world, clicking on the television and watching it on mute. The station was showing the lurid video footage of her bashing Bracken in the face with her weapon at his fundraiser. It'd been the right move at the time; she didn't regret it. But it certainly looked bad.

And then the closed captions came up on the screen and gave details, _private_ details, and she jerked towards the remote to turn the volume up. The news anchor blared through the speakers and Castle grunted awake, but she couldn't look away from the television.

"What the hell?" he groaned. The dog whined from the floor and scuttled off, back down the hallway.

"How do they know that? How do they _know_-" She cut herself off, swallowing hard and pressing her lips closed. Her stomach churned and she stared at the television, assaulted by her own life.

The anchor was doing an in-depth report on Detective Beckett's 'lurid' past, her mother's crime scene photos on a slideshow. And then the information about her mother's murder that had never gone to the press, that had been held back because of its distinguishing characteristics: the pattern of knife wounds.

And then video footage of Coonan's body as it was being wheeled from the offices of his charity, just weeks after his own brother's death, the sheet pulled over his face. The Westies were being interviewed on camera about how it was a police vendetta, how she'd have taken them all out if she could. She was clearly crazy; she wanted revenge.

"Kate," Rick said quietly.

"No, how could they know this? The knife wounds and Coonan and-" She felt his hand on her shoulder but she wouldn't let him draw her back into an embrace. "This isn't normal stuff - they didn't have _time_ to dig up archival footage of Coonan's death - not to mention your father had the CIA scrub that site clean. How did they ever _get_ this?"

"From Black," he said finally. "Don't think he hasn't been saving up every damaging thing on you he possibly could, waiting for a day like this. He's connecting the dots for the press, for the FBI, for the public. In fact, I'm sure this was all his idea, his doing - sic Bracken on you and hope you guys did his dirty work for him, take each other out."

"And we did," she whispered. Her guts twisted and she pressed her hand to her stomach, tried to hold herself together. "Bracken came after me and I killed him. And now look."

"_Bracken_ came after you," Castle growled. "He kidnapped you and would have shot you in the woods, Kate. You _and_ our son. You did exactly what you had to do."

She closed her eyes and sank back into the mattress, but Castle caught her, dragged her against him. It hurt, God, it hurt, but she needed it. Needed something to keep her together. Onscreen, pictures of Coonan and his charity work were slowly poisoning the world against her. Coonan had stabbed Castle that night, but of course, that was never mentioned.

And never could be.

Castle turned her towards him, away from the tv screen. He cupped his hand at the back of her neck, his forehead pressed to hers. "You did exactly right. There was nothing else you could have done. We're going to beat this because you didn't do anything wrong."

She hadn't done anything she didn't have to do. But to kill a man? To kill _him_, when her whole life she had wanted to be _better_ than him. Better than that.

If she could've gotten her hands on a weapon before his fucking goons had kicked her, she'd have killed him then. Before he ever aimed at her.

For Malone. For the baby. For Castle.

For her mother.

And while she was still attempting to come to grips with that, the news report went on, playing an audio file and publishing the transcript on the screen.

It was her voice. It was her broken, dark voice, hers alone, no one else on the recording.

She was talking to herself. She sounded insane.

"That's - oh God - that's from when the NSA bugged my apartment," she moaned. "Fuck, Castle. I sound _unhinged_."

Castle cursed and turned off the television, and for a brief moment, she thought he might pick it up and throw it across the room. But instead he only turned to her and brought her in against his chest.

It was agony - every movement was agony - but she didn't let go of him.

"You aren't that," he rasped. "You aren't like that any more, Kate. We're done with that. We can prove that's not you."

But the problem was, there was no proof to offer up. They couldn't call in Dr King for her defense; he was a CIA shrink and for the sake of the agents who came to him, he couldn't be burned.

She had no way to prove she wasn't that insane, obsessive woman - no way to prove that she had found her own kind of closure in this, her work with him at the CIA. Because no one could know about the CIA, no one could ever find out.

* * *

Castle stroked the hair off her neck, tried to ignore the faint sheen of tears in her eyes. She was struggling not to let it affect her, and he saw the battle on her face, but he knew it had to be done. Not just because they couldn't show weakness right now, but because they both had people depending on them.

"You need to call your dad again," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I know it's not-"

"You're right," she rasped. "No, you're right. He'll be watching this."

"That's not you, Kate," he insisted. "It wasn't even you when that was being recorded. It's a one-dimensional look. It's not the whole picture."

"I sounded fucking insane," she said bitterly. Her hand came up between them and she hid her eyes, a shuddering breath out. "Fuck. Castle."

She moaned but it ended with a growl, stiffening her spine. She sat up straighter, avoiding his eyes, but he knew it was only in an effort to keep control of herself. Her hand was at her ribs protectively, the pain of it shadowing her movements.

She was so vividly determined, so unstoppable. And yes, that had fed her obsessive investigation into her mother's murder, but if she hadn't been that person, if she wasn't so good at pressing on to her goal, then that death would have broken her long ago.

"The hell of it?" she rasped, giving him a crooked smile that didn't look at all amused. "The hell of it is, that's me. That's still me. I _just_ did that to you, Castle. I got obsessive and stupid over the regimen, and I _hurt_ you and-"

"Stop," he growled, gripping her by the arm. "Stop. It's not you."

"It is," she said, her voice final. "And I'd love to say it won't be me in the future - that I've seen the light. But when it comes to you-"

"I know," he said tightly. "I already know. We've hashed this out a thousand times. But Kate, don't you see that's exactly why that voice on the recording isn't you? Because you aren't about death - you're about making it right, making life good for us. You carved out a place for us where no one else would've been able to even stand. You're so strong, Kate; you don't let anything stop you. Especially when it's for us."

He wanted to be what she needed right now, but she sat away from him, her fists in the mattress, her chin tilted up as she struggled with it. He knew it was bad - it was _so_ bad - having her private life picked apart, taken out of context; Kate was just so intensely reserved that this was worse for her than most.

"I know it sounds bad. But they don't know us, Kate. Remember? Deleware didn't know us; Black has no idea. You and me, Kate." He tried to find a smile. "Well, and now the little wolf, too."

She hunched her shoulders, wrapped her arm around her ribs as despair rolled across her face. "Oh God, how in the world can I think I'm going to be any good as a mother? Fuck, Castle, I'm damaged. I'm just-"

"Kate," he growled, gripping her by the arm and drawing her into him. "We're all damaged. At least knowing it, we know how to fix it, we know how to make up for each other. You and I - we just keep getting better."

She closed her eyes, her throat worked; he touched his forehead to hers and tried to breathe past the furious grief in him. She didn't deserve this; she was more than this. And for it to cause her to doubt the only thing they'd wanted for so long now - unacceptable. Not for a second was he going to let her drown in this.

"Those recordings - what they're saying about you - I was there for that. Don't forget that Coonan tried to kill us both, and I killed him in self-defense. Not you. So they've got their facts wrong. What they're saying is _wrong_, Kate."

"I know," she said, nodding at him. Her hands were in fists on his thighs and her forehead rolled against his as she sighed. "I know. I just - this is crap timing, isn't it? It's the worst time to have this, and I'm doing a crap job right from the start because the public exposure is the _one thing_ we can't survive. What kind of mother-"

"No," he said, sitting up to frame her face with his hands and make sure she could see how serious he was. "You're here; you're alive. And that's part of what makes you the only one who _can_ be good as his mother; you will never give up, Kate. On him. On me."

"But that's what _got_ us here," she growled. "My damn obsession."

"No. I don't accept that. It's more than obsession."

"Not much," she said bitterly.

"It's love," he insisted. "So much love." He drew her arm away from her ribs, slowly to keep from collapsing her, rubbed his thumb over the cradle of her palm. "Kate, I saw it from the first moment I laid eyes on you. How you love with everything - intensity and passion and feeling. I wanted that for myself, I wanted that passion directed at me. I'd never had that before and I'd needed it."

She swallowed hard and her fingers curled around his. Castle shifted to the headboard, drew her side to his chest so she could lean into him.

"I didn't make it easy," she rasped. Her fingers hooked in the buttons of his shirt and he covered her hand with his own, squeezing.

"Oh, love, nothing easy is worth it."

"Even Tunisia?" she muttered. Her head shifted, lifting from him, her face turned away. "The Congo was worth it?"

He grinned because he couldn't help it, because it welled up in him so quickly, and he stroked his thumb under her frown, eased the corners up. When she glanced at him finally, he ran his fingers down her throat and then between her breasts, skating down to her abs before flirting around her belly button. "Kate? Kate, the Congo was this."

She sucked in a breath, her head dropped so he couldn't see what she was thinking.

It took a long time of silence, but she finally cleared her throat and faced him, eyes fierce and determined once more. All of the disquiet was gone.

"You're right. I need to call my dad," she said. "Do you have the phone?"

* * *

"Hey, it's on," he called back to the bedroom. "Kate, it's on tv right now."

Castle stood in front of the television set in the living room, staring at the special report on the noon edition of the local NBC affiliate. He heard the sound of the dog's toenails against the wood floor first, and he glanced up to see Kate and Sasha coming into the room. Kate was still on the phone with her father, but she lifted her chin and nodded to the television.

"Just started?"

"Yeah," he said.

"That was fast," she muttered. "Dad? Yeah, it's on right now. Okay. Yeah, you can call me on this if you need to. It's a burner but our numbers are being forwarded. Bye. Love you too."

"Did you tell him about..."

"Our little wolf?" she said, a smirk playing with her lips. She looked a lot better now, even if she was still holding herself stiffly. "No. We said we'd wait. It's too early."

"Right," Castle said, but he was distracted by the anchor onscreen. "Wow. Look."

Kate came to his side then, took his hand. He squeezed and they watched together as a different story was told. At first, Kate was so taut beside him that he thought she might hurt herself, but as the reporter went on, as the facts were made known about Bracken, she eased.

"It's not about me," she croaked.

"No," he said firmly. "It's about him. That's the real story. What Bracken did. Has been doing this whole time. Everyone in this city should know."

The phone in her hand chimed with an alert - the security system messaging them - and Castle plucked it from her fingers to check the security camera feed.

"Oh, it's just Mitchell coming up," he said. "And Ryan and Reynolds are with him."

"Did Mason get here?"

"Yeah, he's next door to relieve Esposito of guard dog duty, but Espo won't leave." Castle released her hand and moved for the front door, scooping up the Glock from the kitchen counter. He pressed his body to one side of the door and waited until the knock.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"Don't be an asshole," Mitchell barked through the door. "I can see us on the security cams - and I know you can too."

Castle heard Beckett chuckling even as he flipped open the deadbolts, but he didn't care - he'd rather be safe than sorry. He turned the lock and then unhooked the chain, opening the door for them. Mitchell shoved his way inside, giving Castle a dirty look, and Ryan and Reynolds followed in his wake.

Mitch went straight for Beckett and gave her a gripped-shoulder embrace; Kate looked startled, too slow to return it, but Castle could see how that had pleased her. Sasha stood away from the newcomers, giving them careful looks from the side of her eyes, keeping close to Beckett.

"Mitch," Kate said. "We were just watching the news."

"It's good. I laid it all out for her."

"The anchor?" Kate said, nodding her head towards the tv. "She's cute too."

"She's prickly," Mitchell sighed. "But we got it - it's everything she can legally say - and the rest of it she just keeps using _alleged_ and we're covered."

"How's it feel to be a civilian?" Kate said.

"Boring already." But Mitchell didn't look put out by it.

Ryan grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the television, so Castle waved to Reynolds to take a seat as well. He didn't have anything to offer them - and it felt strange, this limbo. Like no one knew what to say to each other. Didn't help that the dog seemed to feel like their friends were intruders; Sasha was pressed hard against Kate's legs, the fur up on her back, teeth not yet bared but close.

Castle covered her muzzle with his hand, made her head dip into the submissive posture. "You're fine, Sasha. Kate's fine. Be nice."

Mitchell sank down on the couch and inclined his head to the seat beside him. "Sit, Beckett. You're freaking out the dog. And you standing all rigid like that is making me hurt just looking at you."

Castle laughed through the dirty look Beckett sent them both, and she finally sat down as well. A little gingerly, a little stiff, but she seemed to be carrying it easier. Sasha lowered herself to the floor at Kate's feet, but her eyes followed Mitchell's movement, apparently assessing him as the threat.

"So," Mitchell started. "All this stuff that's been leaked to the press - the footage of you, Beckett, and what happened with Coonan? My question is-"

"How'd they know?" Castle jumped in. "I've been thinking the same thing."

Kate let out a breath. "Coonan was cleaned up by Black - the CIA covered it up _very_ well. Not a word got out. But now the news has video footage?"

"It's not right," Ryan said. "Espo and I were with the NYPD then and we didn't hear anything about it. When Beckett took time off because of Castle being stabbed - we had no idea what was going on."

"Black did the job," Castle answered. "So it's got to be him giving the news their story."

"Yeah, but how?" Mitchell inserted. "Malone..."

Everyone went quiet for a second, respect and horror in the room with them, and then Mitchell shook his head, kept going.

"Malone was the one who went through everything with a fine tooth comb - our whole network. And then Ryan - when you came on board, you guys worked together to debug the thing. So how's Black got access?"

"Our firewall is bulletproof," Ryan boasted. "I watched that man _build_ it. I know no one's getting in."

"If he's getting to all those files on Coonan, then he's getting in," Mitchell said, jabbing a finger at Ryan as he did. "It's not bulletproof."

"And I'm saying it is," Ryan argued. "If he has access, he has a damn login and password, because you can't just back door into our system."

"Login and password," Kate mused softly. "Listen. Deleware was Black's man all this time - but who else is still his? Who else does he have working for him?"

Castle rubbed a hand down his face, still standing behind the couch, a weight settling over him. "If he's not hacking our system, then he's got someone on the inside. That's what you're saying."

Kate glanced over her shoulder at him, lifted her hand to touch his elbow. "I believe Ryan when he says it's not getting hacked, that there's no back door for Black to come through. Malone had been on it since..."

Castle nodded, put a hand out to Ryan to keep him in his seat. "I agree. I know he worked - he did good work for us. But that means there's a plant in our section."

Mitchell shifted his elbows to his knees and the dog lifted her head to look at him, warning him with a growl and a baring of her teeth. Mitch gave the dog a dismissive gesture and stood. "No, it's not just a plant. We have a fucking traitor."

Just then, the front door burst in and Esposito came inside, followed closely by Mason.

Esposito shifted on his feet for an instant, as if he didn't know what to say now that he was here, and Mason took over the job.

"Four SUVs pulled up outside - government plates. Two NYPD cruisers flanking them. Beckett, they're here for you. They've issued a warrant for your arrest."

No, Castle thought.

It was too soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

Kate saw Reynolds move first, pulling a weapon from the center ottoman and heading for the door, quick and silent.

"Ren, no." Kate called after him. "What are you doing?"

"Always meet your enemy with your weapon," Reynolds said, yanking open the door and disappearing down the hall.

Since Castle wasn't moving to stop him, Kate shifted forward to go after the man. Mitchell snagged her by the arm and shook his head.

"We gotta leave you for this part," he said. "Me and Mason. Since we're your back-up."

"Back-up?" she said, horrified. Castle only watched her grimly and gave Mitch a nod. "No. Castle, we do not need back-up. This is just taking me in for questioning, that's all."

"You're being arrested," he said quietly. "And the back-up is just in case."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Mitchell had escaped out the door. "Castle. Mitch can't go out there. He doesn't have the protection of the CIA any more."

"He knows what he's getting into," Esposito said. "Ryan and I are staying here, since we're part of the official story. We'll take Castle with us and follow along behind you to wherever they process the arrest."

The arrest.

Suddenly, it was happening all too fast. She heard the elevator down the hall and Castle shut the door after Mitchell and Reynolds's departure. Esposito and Ryan were closing the ottoman, hiding the guns, and their own weapons were tucked into ankle holsters out of sight.

She gripped the back of the couch and stayed on her feet, feeling left out of it, unaccounted for.

She was being arrested.

And then Castle came back to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drew her slowly against him. "We got you, Kate. You're not doing this alone."

"I know," she rasped. Not just because Castle was standing right at her side. Not just her boys flanking her and Mitch and Mason out there. It was also because of this life she had now, this life to protect - a piece of her husband tucked away and secret inside her. She wasn't alone at all. "Castle. Castle, when did we start calling him the little wolf and not the baby elephant?"

He laughed breathlessly in her ear, his grip around her waist tightening for an instant. "I don't know. I guess asking after an elephant doesn't seem as complimentary."

She choked on a laugh of her own, stood up straighter. "Well, a wolf then. Since we've already got one." Sasha had come to her side in warning now, as if she could hear something they couldn't. Ryan and Esposito were just in front of them, waiting for it.

The knock on the door sounded too loud in the apartment, and for half a beat, no one moved at all. She saw then that it wouldn't be any of them - none of her boys were going to open the door to her accusers - so she had to do it herself.

When the door swung back, she saw four men in suits. And her Captain.

"Gates?" Esposito barked, coming up behind Kate.

Castle was close, his fingers at her lower back, but he was absolutely silent. Sasha growled.

Gates stepped through the doorway. "I'm sorry to say this. But Detective Beckett, we need to take you in."

"Am I under arrest?"

"Yes." The lead FBI agent in his ill-fitting suit shouldered his way past Gates and reached for Kate's shoulder. He harshly tried to turn her around, but Esposito moved in just as Castle blocked the man's arm. Sasha was growling now, that low and constant hum in her throat, and the FBI agent gave the two men a swift look. "Keep your dogs restrained."

"She was just beaten half to death by your senator's hired thugs. So take it easy," Castle growled.

"You're the husband?" one of them said, eyeing Rick. It made Kate's hair stand up on the back of her neck. "An accountant, so it seems."

"What's it to you?" Castle said.

"She's going with us," another agent said. "I'm going to put her in handcuffs now."

"No," Castle snapped. "You're not."

"Castle," she warned, holding her hand up against his chest. She could feel the hostility in him, but she turned her head and willed him to look at her.

He did, a brief glance, and his whole posture changed. The spy was subsumed, the husband was back again. He had to stick to their cover.

"Then I'm doing it, not you," Castle said finally. "She's been hurt enough."

And though she didn't think he meant to, the break in his voice was convincing. Gates herself handed over her own handcuffs and Castle took them.

Kate watched him as he slid his fingers along her inside wrist, drawing her arms before her. The cuffs came on, her ribs already aching, but with a last, soft kiss to her mouth, Castle subtly pushed a little key into her hand.

Just in case, she could practically hear him.

"I'm going to be the one to take these off of you," he murmured. "I'll come for you, Kate. I'll get you released."

* * *

The elevator ride took an eternity.

Castle stood just behind the man who had wanted to handcuff his wife so roughly, and he hoped his anger was enough to drop the agent dead on the spot. If looks could kill.

The asshole shifted on his feet and Castle figured a little discomfort was all he was going to get. Castle was supposed to be an accountant after all. He hadn't missed the strange look that agent had given him when he'd asked - like he'd heard rumors, like he couldn't quite believe it.

They'd had to leave the poor dog in the apartment, her low, lonely bark of disapproval the only sound she'd made against the treatment. He imagined he could still hear her whining in her throat as the elevator sank to the lobby; he understood the feeling.

But at least like this he could still stay in touch with Kate. Just barely. The suited FBI agents obviously didn't know what to do with him riding along, though Gates kept throwing him supportive, encouraging looks. Castle nudged his fingers to Kate's thigh, letting her know he was here.

The elevator ground to a halt and the doors opened. The agents moved forward as one, but Gates was at Beckett's side, acting as support for the injured prisoner, though Castle saw his wife didn't need it.

Or didn't want to need it. Her balance was off with her hands cuffed in front of her and her ribs already killing her, so it made the walk difficult, but she was doing it. No help.

_Good girl._

Castle followed, itching to get closer, but it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut. If he got any closer, he might say things that _she_ would regret. He could imagine these FBI assholes taking it out on her once they got her alone.

It was his worst nightmare - his wife in the hands of idiots who had no idea the danger out there. No idea about Black.

But he gritted his teeth and soldiered on, coming outside into the harsh light, the sun bouncing off the windows of the buildings across the street. It was bitterly cold, the last of winter was in the March wind, and Castle shoved into the midst of the men even as they protested, too startled to stop him.

He caught her coat before it could slip from her shoulders, brought it up closer around her neck, buttoning the top button of the peacoat so it wouldn't fall. She smiled at him, soft and delicate, and he had to resist the urge to kiss her.

A strobe of light went off, cameras, a hurdle of reporters just outside the front doors, and Castle stopped the whole procession of agents by planting himself in front of her. Her hands were cuffed in front of her but she didn't look at all surprised to see him; she looked like they held a secret together.

He was stunned to realized they did. More than a key slipped into her hand, more than a love affair with the CIA.

_Fuck it_, he thought, and then he pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her desperately, furiously, joyfully - the whole last few days - the last few _months_ - in his effort of love. She moaned a little, and he didn't know if it was pleasure or pain, but she pushed back just as hard, her tongue diving into his mouth and their secrets this dark sensation at the back of his throat like choking.

He felt more than saw the cameras, but it was partly a show for them anyway, to rebrand her in the media spotlight. An agent yanked him away and he allowed himself to go, watching intently, silently, as Gates helped Beckett to one of the black SUVs. The agent kept Castle back with an arm until Gates and Beckett were loaded into the backseat, and then he let Castle go and joined his fellow assholes.

Castle stood on the sidewalk and didn't speak, didn't so much as look in the reporters' direction, and after a moment, he felt a presence behind him.

"Castle." Urgent, pleading, Reynolds came closer.

He turned and saw the man; his face was white, still marred by the leftover of the work that had been done to him in that listening station of the coast of Tunisia. "Ren. What's wrong?"

He could hear the SUVs starting their engines, the grind of tire against grit in the road, and Reynolds took a half-step as if to follow.

"Reynolds."

"That was him. That was-" Reynolds shuddered. "The man who tortured me in Tunisia. His name is Maine and he's driving that SUV that Beckett just got into. Maine is one of your father's mercenaries."

* * *

"Whoa, fuck," Kate gasped, jerking back.

Maine gave her an evil little grin in the rear view mirror and then adjusted it back, but Captain Gates, at her side, was gripping Kate by the elbow.

"Are you okay? Are your ribs-"

"No, he's - that's him. He's one of-" Kate stopped, the words dying in her mouth.

"One of who?" Gates said sharply, glancing through the passenger side window and craning her neck. "I don't see anyone. Except Esposito and Ryan."

The agent in the front seat beside Maine turned around and narrowed his eyes at her. "Is there a problem?"

Kate sucked in a shallow breath but her ribs ached anyway; at least Castle had been able to handcuff her arms in front of her - behind her back might have killed her.

The key was tucked tightly in her hand. She'd have to find a place to hide it before she was stripped and searched, but so far, she had no idea. It became even more imperative that she not be discovered.

Maine. One of Black's mercenaries was here.

That meant this was part of Black's plan. Her arrest was _part of his plan_.

"Detective Beckett?'

She shook her head, her mouth dry. What was she supposed to say? _My accountant husband has a murderous father who is out to destroy us - and he's using your driver to do it._

She pressed the heels of her hands into her stomach and tried to breathe without hurting herself. She had to think, had to plan.

Had anyone seen that the driver was Maine? Would any of them even know? Castle had been on that island but he'd been stuck with his father most of the time. Maine had kept watch over her with Deleware but it had only been Del and Black in the courtyard when Castle had come.

Reynolds. He might have seen Maine at some point, but she couldn't count on that. And what did this do to their plan now? She didn't feel at all safe with Maine at the wheel, but even less did she want Maine out of her sight.

And when they put her in a holding cell...

"Captain," she said tightly. "Are we headed back to the 12th?"

"I'm afraid not," Gates sighed. "The federal building. The FBI has jurisdiction. I'm here - as they've made it quite plain - as a courtesy only."

An unknown layout, unknown enemy, and no way of knowing what Maine had planned.

Any other time, she'd have been content to sit back and wait, ride it out, but she couldn't. There was her jungle parasite to think about. The little wolf haunting her.

Shit, this was a mess.

* * *

Castle followed the SUV carefully, making sure to stay right on Maine's tail. He was just an accountant after all, and he was upset they were arresting his wife for what was clearly justifiable. Of course the accountant was going to follow his wife to wherever they were taking her.

He was upset; hell yes, he was.

And he also wanted Maine to know that he'd been made and not to try anything because Castle was right on his ass. Close enough to shoot.

In the car behind him, Espo was driving Ryan and Mitchell, but they were being circumspect. Just in case.

Too many contingencies, too many possible outcomes. Anything could happen and while he'd known that her arrest wasn't going to sit right with him, he hadn't fathomed that one of the FBI agents would be a plant of his father's.

Failure on his part. If something happened to Kate...

"What are we going to do?" Reynolds said.

"I don't know," he admitted. "They'll have to let me in. She's under arrest but innocent until proven guilty. They can't keep me away from her."

"Agent Castle... I don't think they have to let you anywhere near her."

He fought to keep from punching the steering wheel; his knuckles were already scabbed and bruised from before. "I'll make them."

"Do we have a back-up plan?" Reynolds said quietly. "In case that doesn't go our way."

"She has a standard handcuff key. She should be able to get out if she has to."

"We're not breaking her out, are we?"

He didn't know what to say. Because _yes_, he wholeheartedly wanted to get Kate out of there. But one of the last things she'd begged of him was that he stick to the cover.

He couldn't go in there as a CIA operative or their life was exposed - Kate was exposed, her father, his own mother - their child. There were reasons why he should have been keeping secrets all along, reasons why no one was supposed to know.

"I can't go in after her as a CIA agent. But what good am I as a civilian?"

The silence stretched between them. The train of FBI cars stopped at a light and Castle shifted his hand to his weapon, easy access, just in case. But nothing happened and the light turned green and still Beckett got farther away from him.

"I know," Reynolds said quietly. "But what if I went in there? I tell them who I am, what happened to me in Tunisia. And that Maine was in on it. Then at least that threat is removed."

Castle let out an explosive breath. "The whole point of this is that we don't expose the CIA - too many people will get hurt if we bring that into it. Kate wouldn't be happy with me if I let you try that - not after what Mitch has done to take that heat."

"And Beckett would absolutely _kill_ me if I let you go in there and try to break her out."

Castle pulled up behind the SUV and followed it into an underground parking garage. The guardhouse was manned and the bar came down, and Castle gripped the steering wheel, rolled his window down to explain. He was promptly turned away by the armed agent at the guardhouse window, and Castle double parked on the street instead.

Federal building. He needed some fucking authority to get inside that place and he didn't have it.

But he knew someone who did.

Esposito's car pulled in behind him, both of them waiting for something, a sign to show them the way.

"Reynolds," he said finally. "I'm going to ask you to tell your story. But not to them. To someone else."

"Who?" Reynolds said.

"My boss. It's time we call the Director."

* * *

Kate Beckett pressed her arms against her bruised ribs and ignored the man at her back who had been - once upon a time - part of Deleware's mercenary team. The elevator took them from the underground parking garage and up to the main floor where each one of them went through the metal detectors. She kept a careful eye on Maine, noticed that he did in fact have a weapon, and then she was patted down herself.

When the FBI agent at her side turned to put his own weapon on the plastic tray, Kate coughed into her hands and stuck the key under her tongue, pressing it close to her gums. The metal detector lit up when she went through and she was wanded by a security agent.

She didn't offer any explanation, and the wand coasted over her arms and legs. When she had to raise her arms so the man could get at her ribs, she could barely lift them, and she let herself shake with the effort. The man wouldn't look her in the eyes, and he quickly gave up the routine when he found nothing.

Kate touched her tongue to the key and stayed silent.

They took two elevators going up, and she didn't know whether she was relieved or not that Maine wasn't in her car. It was Gates and two other agents, including the one Castle hadn't made friends with, and they didn't stay anything to her either.

She kept her spine straight and followed Gates into the detention center, surrounded by most of the NYC FBI branch. They stared at her as she was led in, but she thought she saw some sympathy from a few faces. There were even two guys she knew from working federal homicide cases, and both men shadowed her entourage as they moved to the processing center.

It was comforting, strangely enough, but she still didn't know how much she could say to either of them about what was truly going on. She couldn't accuse Maine of anything without having to tell a story she simply couldn't tell.

Not only because it would blow her cover with the CIA, not just because it was other people's lives she was putting at risk, but also because she'd already mishandled all of Castle's secrets. The stories he'd given her in her detective's notebook, the things he'd unhesitatingly shared with her despite the fact that they were classified - she'd ripped those stories apart looking for details, proof of the regimen, searching for safety rather than trusting in love.

She'd treated those stories like evidence rather than the gifts they were, and there was no way in hell she was going to be so cavalier about them now.

She absolutely couldn't. And beyond that betrayal, beyond the fact that it would put her husband and countless others in jeopardy - there were long-term consequences that they couldn't even project. Ten years from now, what if the secrets she uncovered today about themselves led back to their family? To a family Kate hadn't even met yet, but already was responsible for?

If it was just Kate herself she was worried about, it'd be different. But the CIA kept secrets for a damn good reason, and she wasn't about to risk it.

One of her FBI contacts, Agent Keirce, came at her side and gave her a head nod, indicating a solidarity she hadn't been expecting. She gave him a tight smile and he opened up a door marked _Processing_.

"We'll run your prints, get you photographed, put in the paperwork, Detective Beckett."

"Thanks, Keirce."

Captain Gates came in with her as well. "I'm acting as her union rep until we can get your lawyer here."

"I think Rick was in contact," Kate said, the key pressing hard beneath her tongue. Keirce was guiding her to a padded chair and the handcuffs were unlocked without even a comment.

It was all so civil. She felt a little bit foolish.

"If you'll give me your hand," Keirce said. "We'll press it to the glass and get your fingerprints."

The door swung open; Maine stepped just inside. Keirce shot him a frown but said nothing, and suddenly Kate didn't feel at all foolish.

Black wanted her dead; she should never forget that.

* * *

"Get McCord on the phone right now," Castle barked. Esposito shot him a dirty look but redialed, and Castle paced the coffee shop down the street where they had set up.

Reynolds had appropriated Mitchell's laptop and was writing out a kind of confession, point by point, of everything that had happened in Tunisia. Castle was still on hold with the CIA director's secretary, but he was confident the man would get in touch with him the moment he had the time.

Esposito held up his cell. "I got her."

"Switch with me," Castle said, yanking the phone from Espo's fingers and handing his own over to the man. He pressed the phone to his ear and forced himself to sit. "Rachel?"

"Mr. Rodgers."

His heart lifted. She was already doing such a great job. "Look, can you - I need for you to get inside the holding center where they've got Kate."

"I was on my way there now."

"Good, oh, that's good." He bowed over the little round table where Ryan had set out coffee for him. "Thank you. I need you to stick as close to Kate as you can."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Is this a secure line?"

McCord let out a noise. "As far as I know, but maybe you should choose your words carefully."

"The driver of the SUV that came for her - that driver is an old enemy of ours," he said quietly. "An enemy with a death wish for Kate."

"Shit. Are you kidding me?"

"I didn't see him until it was too late, but we followed the SUVs here to the federal building and got turned away. They won't let me in to see my wife."

"I understand," McCord said shortly. "I won't let her out of my sight. Mr Rodgers... you should do something about her lawyer."

"Right," he said. "We've got one on the way."

"Of course, but - he can stay with her. Do you understand me, Mr Rodgers?"

"The lawyer," he rasped. "Got it. I understand."

"I'll be there in twenty, Rick."

"Thanks."

He ended the call and had to rub his palm down his thigh, the clammy sweat of _fear_ still riding through him. Reynolds had been _tortured_ by that bastard masquerading as an FBI agent, and now Kate was at his mercy.

Fuck. Fuck, he did not feel good about this.

"Mason," he said.

"Here."

He lifted his head and saw his long-time operative more than ready and willing. "I need you inside. Start a cover ID as a lawyer based in New York, hired by her father years ago. You'll need a preliminary-"

"I know what I'll need," Mason said. "And I won't leave her."

Castle nodded, certain that Mason would do anything - just as the man had done for his own wife, Marin. "There's standard security at the federal building, but I want a weapon on you. Plastic knife, plastic gun - we have them at the Office. And Mason?"

"Yes, I'll get them."

"Mason," he insisted. "My wife can't - not a scratch. This time there is _no_ acceptable injury. Do you understand me?"

Mason blinked and his brow furrowed - it wasn't protocol for an extraction to limit the number of damages. "Message received."

When Mason had stood and moved towards the front door to take on his new assignment, Castle turned to the rest of them huddled around the cafe table. "Espo," he said, palming the phone. "How's it?"

"Still on hold."

"I'll take it now," he said, lifting his hand for the phone. Esposito gave it up and he pressed it to his ear, heard the tinny muzak coming through the speaker. And then the secretary cut in with hurried apologies.

"Special Agent Castle, I can't get him on the line right now, but the _moment_ he's out of this meeting, I'll have him call you back. What did you need from him?"

"We've got to set up a meeting with the Director, tell him what's going on with one my agents here at home."

"Is it an international-"

"No, no. Local problems. But we've identified a possible terrorist who knows my agent's status. We're concerned about there being some repercussions, possibly agent termination."

"Did you need a face-to-face or will a video conference be-"

"Video conference is perfect, Marjorie, thank you."

"Yes, sir, I'll pencil you in for a tentative four o'clock."

His chest tightened. "I - that's - it needs to be sooner than that. My agent is in custody."

"Local?"

"Federal," he admitted.

"Ah, well. Four o'clock is what I have available on his schedule, but the Director can cancel to fit you in. He'll call you as soon as he's out of this meeting."

"Thank you," Castle said. But he didn't know if that would be enough. "Can I ask you to go ahead and set some things into motion on his behalf?"

She sounded affronted now. "Special Agent-"

"I know he's going to want to oversee this, Marjorie, but it's about my father. You remember Agent Black?"

Marjorie was silent and Castle remembered - too late - exactly _how _Marjorie knew his father. Shit.

"Marjorie, I know," he said quietly. "I know. And what you've thought about him all along - I should've seen it sooner. My wife saw it too; she knew before any of us. She - this is my wife I'm calling you about. The senator. And-"

"I saw on the news. That's your wife? What does this have to do with Agent Black?"

"He has a man in place to kill her," Castle said. "And I'm desperate. Marjorie, I really need your help."

"What are you looking to accomplish here, Agent Castle? The FBI is involved, last I heard, and that means our hands are tied for a number of-"

"House arrest," he said quickly. "I just need house arrest. Let Kate come home with me - our cover is solid. It'll withstand any number of probes. I just need the Director to step in and arrange house arrest. Black's assassin can't get to her that way."

There was a moment of silence and then Marjorie sighed. "I'll see what I can arrange and then I'll interrupt the Director's meeting. I'll message you on the secure network when I know."

Castle slumped back in his seat, scraping a hand down his face. "Thanks," he rasped. "Thank you so much."

"Agent Castle - your father is a narcissistic bastard, and I'm sure you know that. I'll do what I can to help your wife. But you know as well as I do that sometimes the outcome cannot be controlled."

"I know," he growled. "I know. But not today."


	3. Chapter 3

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

Kate closed her eyes, breathed through it.

"Detective Beckett?" Captain Gates called her name.

She took a half-second to just get it together again, and then she opened her eyes. "I need to - stand up. My ribs are..."

Gates was already getting to her feet and lifting Kate up with her; she was hardly as strong as Castle and the movement pulled on Kate's torso badly enough to make her grit her teeth.

"Let me go get you some kind of pain medication," Keirce said, shoving back from the table. "I'm pretty sure my partner has muscle relaxers in his drawer from the time he threw his back out."

She didn't have a chance to say no; she couldn't possibly take prescription medication, let alone an expired dosage for a male. She vaguely remembered the doctor saying something about pregnancy-safe muscle relaxers if the pain got bad enough, but Kate hadn't wanted to risk it. Not at three weeks, not so fragile.

She couldn't take Keirce's partner's pills. But how to explain without arousing suspicion in front of Maine, she had no idea.

"Beckett, here, you want to lean against the wall?" Gates was leading her towards the far side of the room, the holding cell where they'd processed her fingerprints and started the paperwork.

Maine was watching her impassively from the doorway.

"Thanks, Captain," she said, letting out a breath as her spine touched the wall. It was agony, and she couldn't believe how much more it hurt after only a few hours in custody, unable to lie down. Plus they'd been required to handcuff her again after her fingerprints and mug shot were taken, and it constrained her ability to shift positions, ease her bruised ribs.

This was going to be a bitch. And she wasn't sure how fast she could be if she needed to defend herself. Thankfully, Gates was still in the room with her.

Something buzzed and Gates released her arm, moving for her pocket. Maine stood up straighter, eyes intent on the captain, but Gates pulled out her phone and answered.

"This is Captain Gates."

Beckett felt her heart pounding suddenly in her chest, too hard and knocking against all her bruises. Her hip ached as she leaned against the wall, her ribs constricting her breath, and suddenly Gates frowned.

"Right now, sir?" Her face cleared, like a woman being given sharp commands. "Yes, sir. I understand. Can I ask why?"

Gates's jaw tensed and she half-turned away from Beckett, ducking her head.

"What about representation? She's an NYPD detective who has been risking her life for-"

Gates stopped, went still. Kate couldn't help seeing the slow grin climb across Maine's face, and she went cold.

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way." Gates lifted her hand and angrily thumbed off her phone. "Beckett. I've been recalled back to the station for an all-hands-on-deck. But the Chief of D's assures me that your lawyer is on his way."

Honestly, Beckett had no idea who her lawyer was; she and Castle hadn't gotten that far. Maybe her father had found someone.

"Hang in there, Detective Beckett," Gates said fiercely. "I'm going to _insist_ on your getting a union rep. I'll be back."

Gates moved for the door and Maine opened it for her, a nod of his head. Kate straightened up from the wall, trying to stand on her own, trying to look stronger than she felt.

Maine shut the door after Gates, and now it was just the two of them.

Kate rocked onto the balls of her feet and didn't take her eyes off of the man.

The mercenary.

She had to force herself to keep her hand away from her stomach, a pretense of protection for the third, unknown presence in the room.

Maine smiled that slow, predatory smile.

* * *

_The Director won't grant the request without evidence. Can you forward me everything you have on record?_

Castle gripped the edge of the cafe table and dug his elbow into the wood, staring at the message on his phone.

"Yo, Castle. What's he say, man?"

Esposito crowded in close and knocked shoulders with him, but Castle gave over the phone, pressed his palms flat to the table. "Ren," he croaked. He had to stop and shake his head, get it together. "Reynolds, can you please send your testimony to the Director's secretary? It's Marjorie Buchman. You know her."

"Yes," Reynolds said carefully, his face concerned. Castle knew he could see it all there, the precariousness of their situation.

"The Director needs _proof_?" Esposito growled, practically slamming the phone back on the table. The entire coffeehouse went still, people looking back at them, and Castle gritted his teeth.

"How about we take this party elsewhere?"

"It's not exactly secure," Ryan pointed out.

Reynolds was typing away on the laptop, but he lifted his head. "Give me five minutes to send this, and then we can move."

Castle folded his hands carefully and took a breath, but the looming sense of dread was heavy over him. Beckett alone in that federal building with only Captain Gates in her corner and Maine with access.

Access. Holy fuck, this wasn't good. If he thought about it too long, he'd do something really stupid. Like break her out of there and lose all hope of ever coming back home.

He'd never thought he'd be weighing her life against the future, never thought he'd have to balance the _now_ with what might happen _then_. She could die in there, but if he did something drastic, he ruined her life and potentially put them in a worse situation.

And not just Kate this time.

He wondered if this was how it had felt to her, heading off to meet Black because she couldn't maintain that balance between Castle's life now and what might happen to him in the future.

It fucking sucked, and he didn't think he could do it much longer.

"Okay," Reynolds said quickly, standing up from the table. "I'm done. Let's roll."

The phone vibrated on the table and Castle snatched it up. "McCord," he breathed in relief. "She's inside." His phone went off again and he checked the second message. "And Mason has been allowed through security as her lawyer. Okay, okay, we're in business, guys."

"I've found a conference room in the hotel at the corner," Ryan cut in. "We can reserve it for three hours - before a wedding reception starts at four. They've got wireless and I can create a secure IP nested within theirs."

Castle clutched the phone and nodded his thanks, unable to express it. He stood up with the guys and they all headed for the door.

He'd get the Director all the evidence he needed and then they'd get Beckett out of there.

* * *

Beckett let out a short breath when the door opened and Maine had to step aside; McCord came into the room and gave her a nod, but her eyes flicked to the man. _Is that him_?

She knew. McCord knew. Something, at least.

Beckett tried to signal affirmation but she sank back down to the chair at the table in real weariness, the relief rushing through her.

"Agent Keirce is quite the fan," McCord smirked at her. She glanced to Maine and narrowed her eyes. "Can we get some privacy? She's not going anywhere."

"No," Maine said shortly.

The door opened again and Keirce came inside just in time to hear the tail end of the question. "Hey, man. Scram. We're good. Protocol says two agents in the box, and there are two of us now."

Maine glanced slowly between McCord and Keirce, making it plain that he felt that was completely unacceptable.

"Her lawyer's on the way up," Keirce added. "Go find him, escort him inside."

Kate gripped the edge of the chair, but Maine finally left through the still-open door. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, felt Rachel's hand at her shoulder.

"Detective Beckett, I couldn't find those pills. But I got some tylenol. Hope that helps." He thumped a water bottle down on the table and the pain reliever clunked as it hit the metal. She blinked and reached slowly for the water, the chain of the handcuffs rattling.

McCord grunted something and moved to grab the tylenol. "Let me get that for you-"

"No," Kate cut through, snagging the bottle of tylenol out of McCord's reach. She had to hold a breath as the sudden movement made her ribs flare, but she dragged the bottle to herself. "I can do it."

She knew she sounded like a child, but there was something to reasserting her independence, her _control_ over this whole thing.

McCord didn't protest.

Kate took the tylenol, four in one go, and sucked down half the bottle of water. She kept it cradled in her lap between her cuffed hands, knowing that she had to stay hydrated, healthy, but not sure when she'd get the chance to drink water again.

Since she'd told no one she was pregnant.

It was a very fine line, this tenuous balance. Today's decisions affected tomorrow's chances, and if she wasn't careful, smart about this, there might not even _be_ a little wolf whose future she was protecting so fiercely.

_We could start again._

But this was the child of their forgiveness, their desperately broken but tender moments in the Congo when love had actually overcome everything.

This was hope, and she needed it as much as Castle did. She needed this to survive.

The door clicked open and Kate lifted her head to the newcomer, expecting Maine with some excuse to get her alone.

But it was Mason.

_Mason_.

Hope. Here it was, striding into the room with all of that bluster and swag she remembered from the man. She pressed her lips together and tried not to let it show on her face.

"I'm Rowland Phillips, legal counsel for Detective Beckett." He offered his hand to Keirce and the agent rose to shake, nodding towards the chair he'd vacated.

"Grab that one. I'll bring another one in here."

Keirce headed for the door and now Kate saw Maine was standing there, waiting for his chance. When Keirce left to get another chair, Maine slipped inside.

Mason blocked his way, not sitting down, settling his briefcase on the table before Kate. She didn't know why, but Mason's stupid little power play made her feel better.

"Your husband sends his regards," Mason said in a clipped accent. "He told me to tell you that he understands the ramifications of your situation, and he's working tirelessly in your defense."

She smiled brightly, and even though Maine had finally stepped inside and gotten his eyes on her again, the smile stayed firm.

Castle knew about Maine; she didn't know how, but Mason was giving her a clear and confident acknowledgement.

Castle was going to get her out of here.

* * *

Castle shifted in the uncomfortable metal chair, the plastic cushion squeaking under his weight. Ryan shot him a look like maybe Castle had _let one_, and Castle narrowed his eyes at the man.

"What?" Ryan squeaked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing," he growled. "Reynolds, you hear anything yet?"

"No," Reynolds said tightly. "But I'm logging in again to check."

Esposito moved away from the door of the ballroom and crossed his arms over his chest, keeping lookout for them. Mason had texted to say he was inside the holding room with Kate and she looked fine, if bruised and stiff. She'd gotten his message.

Castle glanced to Reynolds again and the man was on his smartphone, hooked up to the network that Ryan had appropriated for their use. The hotel's wireless was now technically 'down' - actually, Ryan had just made it an invisible, password-protected network - but Espo was making sure no one had pinpointed their location in a search for the cause.

Ryan had snorted when Castle suggested they'd be found out.

"Marjorie emailed me back," Reynolds said quickly. "Director's set up a time. We got ten minutes."

"Ryan-" Castle started.

"I'm on it," Ryan said, his head down as he typed on the computer's keyboard. He made a noise, smirked, and then turned the laptop around so Castle could see the screen. "I'm in. Your skype session awaits."

Esposito grunted. "You did not just _skype_ the Director of the CIA."

"No," Ryan huffed. "Seriously, man?"

"You said it," Espo growled.

"Because the CIA doesn't have better apps than that?"

"You were the one who _said_-"

"Boys," Castle silenced them. "Ryan, is it this one?"

"When the Director gets on, you'll see this light up green. Just type in our access code."

"It's today's, right?"

"Today's activation code, yes."

Castle nodded and stared at the application on the laptop - a simple black and green screen whose basic functions included communication with their foreign stations across the globe. Ryan had piggy-backed the system to give Castle a secure connection to the Director of the CIA.

The cursor flashed green and Castle sat up straight, typed in the activation code - the cipher that changed every week and allowed the CIA to communicate without fear of their intelligence being compromised.

The black and green screen seemed to freeze, and then the camera built into the laptop winked on with its green light. The Director's hands appeared first, and then Castle could see Marjorie adjusting the view for them.

"Agent Castle," the Director said. He had an imperious air, sitting at his desk with the camera's lens somewhere below him so that Castle seemed to be looking up at him.

"Director," Castle said. "Thank you for hearing me out."

"I have five minutes for you, Richard, and that's only because your father and I were friends."

Castle stiffened. "Did you read Agent Michael Reynolds report?"

"Of course. That's _why_ I'm here. Your father snowed me, it seems, and I don't take kindly to being duped. My secretary says all the women at the Agency have known he was a cad."

"I'm sure cad is a nice way of saying it."

"I said a son of a bitch," Marjorie interrupted, ducking her head into the screen. "Don't let my husband fool you."

Castle saw Ryan's jaw drop, but he realized he _had_ actually known that. Marjorie had been the Director's secretary, and then his mistress, and then finally his third wife. Probably because Marjorie didn't let anyone talk back to her and she had a fierce and protective loyalty to the Director; they'd been married over a decade now, at least.

"Agent Castle."

"Yes, sir. Right." Momentarily, Marjorie's fire and determination had actually felt like home, like his own wife, and it had poured _hope_ into him. "I won't get into all the ways that my father has been - ah, a cad, we'll call it - but I definitely will say he has his own agenda. And part of that agenda includes killing my wife."

"I've read Reynolds report, what he did on that island - and to be honest, Richard, not even _I_ knew that listening station had been reactivated. When I assigned Black to shadow Beckett in Mayak, I assumed he was the second best choice. After yourself naturally. Looks like that was the last person you wanted out there with her."

"Absolutely the last," Castle growled. "And it was - not pleasant. I thought we had a tentative truce, a mutual blackmail going on, but he's had his own plan all along. Which is why we really need to get Beckett back in CIA custody."

"This man who's posing as an FBI agent-"

"Maine."

"Do we know this is his real name? I need some intel here, Castle."

"No, sir," Castle said tightly. "No ID yet."

"Get me an ID."

He squeezed his hands into fists and tried very hard not to lose it. "Sir, I really need to get-"

"I need an ID before I can justify burning these bridges. You know the FBI and the CIA don't get along. To do this I've got to call in favors that I will never get back. I will actually _owe_ the FBI. And that's dangerous."

Castle shot a look to Ryan but Ryan gave him a shrug of his shoulder. Reynolds didn't look any more confident in their ability to ID Maine either.

Maine and Deleware. Couldn't be their real names, but the fact that they were both using states' names as covers meant maybe they'd been connected in some way back there.

And maybe they could get an ID from that.

But, fuck, if Maine had been soldier-brothers with Deleware, then Kate was in serious trouble.

Because Castle had ripped out Deleware's throat with a knife.

"Sir," he said. "I'll get you that ID. Put the paperwork through right now - I swear I'll make the ID."

The Director steepled his fingers together and studied Castle for a long moment.

"Preliminary paperwork, yes," the Director finally said. "Finalizing it though? I'll need an ID - _something -_ that I can bring to the FBI and rub in their damn noses."

* * *

Beckett was upright and pacing the narrow room when the door opened again. Keirce came inside with a file - Kate's file, it looked like - and he held the door open. McCord stood and crossed her arms over her chest; she didn't seem to be happy.

Kate wondered what _should_ have happened by now that had Rachel glancing to Mason with that tight _wtf_ on her face.

"Time to go. Holding cell, sorry." Keirce actually did look sorry and Kate shook her head, gave the agent a small smile.

"I understand."

"Better than in the Zoo lockup, right?" He nodded for her to go ahead of him and Kate stepped out into the hallway only to run right up against Maine.

He'd done that on purpose, she thought, stumbling backwards and losing her balance as her bruised ribs refused to keep her upright. She grunted in surprise, but Mason was right there, catching her, easing her to a soft landing against his chest.

Soft being a relative term.

"What's going on?" Keirce said sharply to Maine. "What was that?"

Maine gave her a dark look and turned to lead the way down the hall. Kate shook her head and Mason let her go as well.

"Nothing," she told Keirce. "Ribs are bruised and I lost my balance."

Keirce didn't look like he exactly believed her, but Kate kept her face passive and started walking down the hall after Maine. Keirce followed and finally overtook her, and Mason was so close that he was able to keep two fingers on her elbow.

She didn't need it, but it was a nice gesture.

She heard McCord whisper something to Mason but the covert spy gave the woman a severe look and she stopped.

So there was supposed to have been a different step, an event that hadn't occurred. Kate wondered what.

Maine had the door to the holding cell opened and Keirce was standing beside it. He gestured her inside and Beckett went slowly, her ribs and her hip aching constantly now. The cell had a cot inside, a small latrine without a privacy screen, and the door held a window to see out into the hall.

It was better than most, she had to admit.

"Thank you," she said.

Mason moved to come inside with her but Maine put his hand out and actually _shoved_ him back. "Not-uh. No one goes in with her."

Mason looked ready to wreak havoc and Kate cleared her throat.

"Mr Phillips? Please tell my husband I'm - so far - unmolested."

Mason's eyes cut back to her, and she could actually see the burning indignation slowly dampen. He nodded and the door was shut, the sound of the electronic key grinding the lock closed, and she was alone.

But through that little window, she could see Maine take up sentry duty.

She hoped Mason was out there too.

* * *

"I got it!" Ryan shouted. "I got him. I got you, you sneaky bastard."

Castle hustled over to where Ryan had camped out in the corner of the hotel ballroom; they had ten minutes left before the room would be needed for a reception and he was almost afraid to hope.

"What've you got?" he asked.

"Look here," Ryan said quickly. He tapped the screen with a pencil even as it loaded, an impatient gesture that made Castle's nerves go on alert. The database was slow - it required more processing speed than the network could handle - but when the image finally resolved, Castle surged to stand, pumping his fist.

"You got him," he crowed. "All right, download that to the encrypted server and mark it for the Director. I'll get him back on the line."

Mitchell stood up from the other table and held out his phone. "Already done."

"Shit. Thanks." Castle strode to him and grabbed the phone. "Sir?"

"Agent. I'm receiving now. This is 100% confirmation?"

"Yes, sir. Reynolds described a few tattoos and we put it into the Army-DOD database. Easy as that."

"You get me connections?"

"Not - not directly," he said, hedging. "A few wire transfers that _might_-"

"I need proof he's not-"

"Sir," Castle said desperately, cutting in. "He's in the FBI on an assumed name. We've pulled up his fake FBI credentials and forwarded those on to you as well as his service record under a different name."

"All right. I'll make that work. Meantime, I've had Marjorie set up a meeting and Beckett has been put into a holding cell. We'll get her transferred within the hour."

"Within the hour," he repeated dumbly. That meant the Director had actually finalized this long ago. "Sir..."

"I knew you could do it."

"Thank you," he said quietly, not sure his voice would carry it.

"I'll take this to those FBI bastards and we'll show them. Keep your burner phone near you, Richard. I'll message you when we've got Beckett transferred to house arrest. But you need to move locations."

"Yes, sir. Will do."

Castle ended the call and grinned at Mitchell. "He's already been granted the transfer."

* * *

It didn't take long to find a GPS tracker making a nudge against her spine. It irritated her skin just under the collar and she figured Mason had made it conspicuous on purpose, to let her know they were keeping tabs on her. She removed it from her shirt to rub at her skin, hands awkward and still cuffed in front of her.

She wasn't sure if there were cameras, but she had to assume there were so she tucked the bug carefully into the front pocket of her jeans, turning on the spot as if surveying her cell. She was lucky to still be wearing her own clothes, and the key under her tongue was beginning to cut. She needed to put it somewhere; she still had on her shoes, but she didn't know how long that was going to last.

They'd have to strip search her eventually, right? That they hadn't meant Keirce or someone was doing her a favor, a courtesy, but when they officially charged her, she'd have to change into prison garb.

Beckett had no idea where to put the key when that happened. As it was, she couldn't keep it in her mouth any longer, so she sank to the cot and pretended to lie down, her hands coming up near her face.

She palmed the key and winced, rolled to her back to change positions. She lowered her cuffed hands to her side, tilted her hips to let her movements hide her tucking the key into her pocket with the GPS tracker. Her hip blossomed with immediate pain and she groaned at herself for moving in the first place.

Kate grunted and shifted again, the pain burning along her nerves, trying to find a better spot. She must have hit something wrong because it still flickered and flared like bright spots before her eyes. She folded her cuffed hands high over her sternum even though it hurt, avoided placing her hands over her stomach because of the security cameras. It wasn't like _holding on_ would help anyway. Either she managed to keep it or she didn't.

She might have fallen asleep. It was hard to tell. The cot wasn't comfortable by any standards, but it allowed her to keep off her hip and portions of her ribs, keep her muscles from straining. She closed her eyes against the smooth ceiling and tried to remain centered.

She just kept breathing. Ignored the flutter of pain in her ribs whenever she was forced to draw in a deeper breath.

When the door opened, it wasn't Maine on the other side; it was Keirce. She struggled to sit up, staring at him.

"We've been given orders to transfer you back to your apartment," he said. His voice sounded strange. "House arrest. Don't know how that happened."

Mason was behind him and he breezed into the cell, coming for her. "I'm just that good."

She took that to mean it was part of the plan, and she allowed him to help her stand, combatting exhaustion and bruised ribs and the damn handcuffs. She was already tired of _help_, tired of not being able to move without her breath catching in her throat. "Thanks," she told him.

The handcuffs clattered as she moved and Keirce actually winced for her, but he didn't offer to take them off. Once they moved into the hallway, Keirce took her by the elbow.

"Vehicles are waiting outside," he said. There were two other agents waiting in the hall, both of whom had been with the group sent to arrest her, but still no Maine.

She let herself relax a little bit.

House arrest was good - it meant Rick was working to get her home, that he knew about Maine and was doing something about it. Maybe he'd already gotten the man taken into custody, maybe Maine had cut his losses and run.

Mason was at her back and now she could see McCord at the end of the hallway, her allies going on behind and ahead of her, and she let herself believe it was possible. It could be as easy as that.

Keirce swiped his keycard at the end of the hall and the locked clicked open. He put his shoulder to the door and pressed the crossbar; it swung open slowly into a garage. Kate hesitated until the agent at her back pushed her forward, and she stepped onto the concrete floor to hear the engines idling on two hulking black SUVs.

One of the agents who had arrested her moved for the lead car and hopped inside; she was faintly jealous of his agility. Keirce went to the open back door on the lead car and brought her with him, gripped her by her elbow to help her up. She struggled up onto the running board and ducked painfully inside the car, and then the door was slammed shut behind her and the locks engaged with a whine.

Mason had been detained outside the SUV and was stepping forward, arguing loudly with Keirce and the other agent. McCord was beginning to circle around the lead car as if to get a look.

Beckett turned her head quickly to the FBI agent in the backseat with her. "Hey, wait. My lawyer-"

She froze.

Maine was the driver.

He gave her that chilling smile and then a gun over the seats.

She flinched, her fingers pressing tightly to her abs, rigid with what came next, but Maine didn't even hesitate.

He fired one bullet into the agent's forehead, a neat round hole that blackened and singed, and the agent tilted precariously and slumped against the far window.

The SUV was already tearing out of the underground garage and flying up the exit ramp. Kate rocked backward and fell into the dead man, hearing the shouts of her friends after the speeding car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

Inside their cover apartment, Castle picked up the vibrating phone and pressed it to his ear. He already knew, with a dreadful certainty, that something had gone terribly wrong. Beckett should have been on her way here by now. "Where are they?" he rasped. "What's happened?"

It was Mason. "The vehicle took off without the convoy. Inside is Beckett, one guard, and one driver."

"And where are you?"

"In fucking pursuit," Mason bit out. "I'm with McCord; she got to her car fast and we're tracking them. Kate still has the GPS locator I planted on her."

"Relay that to my screen," he demanded, opening up his secure laptop. It was the same one Ryan had been using back when they'd been forced to go mobile. He should have never left the site.

Castle pressed the phone to his ear with one shoulder, typed in his password. Esposito was on the other side of the wall working security for the apartment, so Castle pounded with his fist and gestured for him to come over. Espo would see Castle on the monitors.

Sasha came in from the bedroom, startled by his fist apparently, and Castle absently rubbed between her ears as the computer loaded.

"You should have it," Mason said over the line. "Do you have it?"

"Yeah. Got it," he breathed, watching the screen. The satellite image had the blue dot of Kate's tracker moving fast, above fifty miles per hour, and he traced the trajectory with his eyes. "Where are they going? Do we know who was in the car with her?"

"We're guessing it was Maine," Mason said grimly. "Agent Kerice said his supervisor took Maine off the case pending some kind of investigation - I'm assuming that's your fault - and that he wasn't supposed to be there. But he wasn't inside the building when they went looking for him."

"Where the hell is he taking her?" Castle stood quickly as Esposito came into the room; he gestured for the man to come closer.

"What am I looking at? Is that their route?" Esposito asked.

"Maine grabbed her," Castle answered. He was already grabbing his keys to the stupid cover car - at least it was a Charger with a hemi engine. That was something. "Mason, fill me in on what else you know."

"Before the vehicle pulled away, we saw one agent and Beckett in the backseat. A gun came from the front driver's seat. Security cameras at the exit show that Beckett and the agent are both - they are both slumped over."

"What are you telling me?" he croaked, hands going still as he shoved on his shoes.

"Blood on the rear window, a good amount, and both the agent and Beckett were down."

"Down," he repeated hollowly. Beckett was down.

For a second, nothing made sense, not the voice in his ear, not Esposito hissing questions at him, not the strange apartment. He sank against the wall and hunched over, gathering breath. One more, one more, and then he jerked painfully upright, striding for the door with knives in his guts.

"Mason, I'm on my way to meet this guy."

"Castle, I don't think-"

"I'm not _sitting_ here while he drives to some secluded area to dump her body."

"We don't know that she's dead."

"She better not be," Castle growled. "Or I will torture him to death. For _years._ I will fucking take him apart, cell by cell, until he is begging me to end him."

* * *

Shit, Maine was _racing_ through the streets; Kate could barely get her bearings. It was a struggle just to breathe.

Beckett leaned into a swerve and inched closer to the dead agent, using her fingers to feel along his thigh. The blood was strangely contained to the round hole in his forehead, but his body was so lax, so strangely warm under her hands.

She needed his gun; she needed to find a damn weapon.

Suddenly an arm came back and Maine's fist crashed into the side of her face. She grunted and was flung into the dead man, her ribs screaming.

"You stay fucking still," Maine growled. "I know what you're capable of, and you _stay down_."

She ignored him and fumbled through the agent's jacket, around his waist, searching desperately for that damn holster. Of course, he was right-handed so he'd have to draw from under his left arm, and that was the side pressed into the door.

"Fucking bitch. Stop it." The arm came back over the seats again and hit out at her; she hissed and recoiled, the pain scrambling her head. "I will fuck you up. You understand me? I don't care _what_ he said, I will do it right here. You sit down."

She searched frantically through the man's clothes, felt the edge of the leather with her fingertips-

Maine snagged the chain of the handcuffs and yanked her forward; she yelped as her body smashed against the back of the front seat, arrows of agony piercing her ribs.

The car swung wildly again and Maine cursed, let go to grab the wheel. She felt her knee hit the floorboard but she forced herself to crawl towards the dead man, anxious to get that service weapon. She reached forward but here came Maine again, hooking his fingers through the cuffs and yanking her back, her body flung against the seat.

She was too damn restrained. She needed to - cuffs first. Get the cuffs off first, act beaten, get the cuffs off and then go for the gun.

Kate breathed shortly through her nose and let the car's jerky movement swing her into the door. But she pushed her fingers into her pocket and scrabbled for the key. She groaned for effect and stayed against the far door of the SUV, the bounce and sway of the suspension making her bruised ribs into shards of glass that were being driven through her lungs.

She had the key though.

She had the key.

Beckett curled her fingers up and tried to angle the key into the lock, but the rough passage of the car weaving through the interstate made it difficult. She gritted her teeth and pulled her knees up onto the seat, straining against the pain, against her muscles that were absolutely rebelling at even the idea of movement.

She'd just gotten her feet up when Maine slammed on the brakes; it jerked her back and then momentum carried her inexorably forward. She pitched over the seat and onto the floor, landing with a gasp as shockwaves vibrated through her bones.

Oh, _shit_. The key.

Fuck. Fucking hell, Beckett, keep hold of the damn key.

She panted against the scratchy carpet of the backseat's floor, inched her fingers around the surface for the handcuff key. She fucking needed her hands free and she wasn't going to let some smirking asshole like Maine be the one to finally get rid of her.

Black wasn't going to have it that easy.

She grimly ignored the still-sharp agony that came with every breath, and she searched for the key.

Maine growled and the car barreled through traffic. "You damn bitch. You are not fucking worth this. I am _so willing_ to shoot you right here. I don't care what he said to make it look like - I will blow your brains out myself if you try anything. You hear me?"

She had no idea where he was taking her, or why he hadn't shot her outright, but she had an awful sense that it was to allow Black to do the job himself.

He'd want to see her afraid.

She wouldn't have been, usually. She would've fought like hell, gone done with her hands around his throat, but she'd have known, somewhere deep, that it had always been coming for her. She'd stolen a spy and she hadn't been willing to give him up. There were always consequences to a love like that.

But now.

Fuck. She didn't have the luxury of fearlessness. She had to find that damn key.

* * *

Esposito was stone cold silent.

Castle drove without speaking, without feeling, just drove. He followed the blinking blue light that indicated the tracker and he did not let anything out of him. Or in. Nothing.

Castle couldn't - there wasn't room for - there was this dark and hungry blackness in him, a mouth gnawing on his bones. There was only the slim, thin chance that they were wrong and nothing had happened, but he clutched it with everything he had.

She couldn't be dead.

_Beckett is down._

He chased after the vehicle in his Charger, his speed going up and up, ignoring stop lights and maneuvering around the other cars. When they got to the Tunnel and crossed into Jersey, he had no idea _why_.

No clue about why or what was happening, only that Beckett was in that SUV and he was not letting her down. After everything they'd survived, for this to be how it ended - no. No. _They didn't end_.

He pushed the car to its limits, going so fast that Esposito actually clutched the door handle and held on. Castle didn't care, didn't let up, just took every obstacle as they came.

"There," Esposito hissed. "There he is."

The FBI's black SUV was nothing more than a speck in the distance of the tunnel, going around a curve now, more violently than necessary. Castle narrowed his eyes and pushed the accelerator; the Charger surged forward and the cars flew past him on either side.

He was fucking gaining.

He had to swerve around a delivery truck, neatly clipped a car going too slowly, the fender of his Charger scraping. He stomped on the gas to make up for it and narrowly avoided a tiny Miata who thought it was hot stuff in the fast lane.

"Whoa. Whoa, fuck," Espo breathed.

Castle was maybe a hundred yards back. The windows were tinted on the SUV, but the tint was bubbled and warped, peeling up in the back. He strained to see, flicking his eyes between the traffic and the SUV, inching closer.

"I can see inside," Espo rasped. "I don't - no visual."

"You're sure."

"I - yes. I'm sure. I see straight through to the driver."

Castle squeezed the wheel and fought to control the car. "We'll - as soon as we're out of the tunnel, we'll force him off the road."

"On the damn interstate?" Espo cursed.

"If that's what it takes."

"Castle. No. That is not a good idea."

"It will be controlled," he said grimly. "It won't roll."

"But how do you know Beckett isn't-"

"Beckett's fine. She's fine," he choked out. "I'm going to run that SUV off the road and force him out into the line of fire."

"I don't think that's such a hot idea."

"I didn't ask you."

* * *

Beckett found the key with a last desperate sweep of her hands, her body bowed so she could search, her ribs aching so badly she was shaking.

But she had the key.

She rolled her body carefully to prop up her arms against the side of the seat, still rocking on the floorboards as the SUV swerved in traffic. She had the feeling that Maine was doing it on purpose, trying to keep her off-balanced, but she concentrated on the trembling and bouncing manacles around her wrists and that small, tiny keyhole.

She dropped the key the first time, but it bounced against her abs and she trapped it there, grunting when the bruises made themselves known. She took a stuttering breath and leaned her head back against the side of the door, closed her eyes as she carefully picked up the key.

When she had it again, she tried this time instead to curl on her bad hip, giving her arms more stability, and even though her pulse pounded hard through her arm and side, it was at least a little more manageable.

Sudden light flared through the windows and she realized they'd been in a tunnel, had come out of it now. She fit the key into the lock in haste, jabbing it into the narrow hole and twisting desperately, her mouth filling with that choking sense of horror.

The car was slowing down. She was running out of time.

The SUV made a tight turn and picked up speed again; she let out a shaky breath and dug the key into the lock, felt the thin metal pressed tightly into her thumb. She couldn't get the lock to move, couldn't find the tumblers, and even though she knew Castle hadn't possibly known what kind of cuffs these were ahead of time, he wouldn't have given her the bump key if he didn't think it would work.

She could get it; she could do this.

Beckett twisted the key tighter into the lock, praying under her breath as it stabbed her thumb. She was about to take it out and try again when the SUV surged forward, the engine roaring under the strain. Maine cursed and the SUV picked up even as it swerved around another corner and popped up on three wheels with its speed. Kate was rocked sideways with the acceleration, her head spinning and her breath tight, the key cutting into her fingers.

And then a massive crash threw her sharply forward, her head smashing into the back of the seat and her body hurled into the tight space of the floorboards.

Another crash had the SUV being shoved from behind, tires squealing, knocking Kate backwards and the dead agent on top of her. She grunted in pain and tried to work her knees up, shove at the dead man, but the key was lost, lost.

The key was lost.

She bit her lip to focus, push past the agony that buffeted her body, felt again the horrible and sickening crunch of another car hitting the back of theirs. The body rolled and she with it, practically on top of the dead man, but then she felt it.

His gun.

Kate fumbled at the leather holster, moving too quickly and snagging her fingers on the strap, tangled in it. She cursed and heard the echoing curse from Maine above her. He cursed something violent and foreign - no language she knew - and she dropped her head to the dead agent's chest, desperate for that gun.

She squirmed and torqued her body, trying to get around the broad chest, and then she had it. She had it; she had the gun.

Maine screamed. It was her only warning.

The SUV crashed headlong into something massive and wide, and everything stopped dead, glass raining down around her, her body on the floorboards and tucked into the narrow space between the dead guy and the backseat.

Kate got her elbows under her and tried to lift up, but she felt like she was breaking in half.

From the driver's seat she heard Maine begin to moan.

She couldn't - couldn't stay here. She had to get out. Had to.

Clutching the gun now with both hands, glass and blood - was it her blood? - staining her fingers, Beckett kicked out at the body, tried to wriggle free. Her ribs were cutting her to ribbons inside, burning and tearing, but she had to get out of this damn car.

She couldn't get to her knees, but she used the edge of the seat to leverage her torso upright, gasping as the pain robbed her of breath. Her chest tightened and constricted, closing off her lungs, and she felt the muscle spasms as her body tried to quit on her.

Kate groaned and kept moving, kept moving, and then the back door was wrenched open. Beckett opened her eyes - when had she closed them? - and yanked the gun up to aim.

"_Kate_, Kate - whoa. Stop, Kate, it's me."

Castle.

* * *

He reached into the backseat of the SUV, hauled her out into his arms. The weapon clattered to the running board and fell to the pavement, and he sank against the frame of the car, holding her up.

"Castle," she said on a groan.

"Oh shit, your ribs. Oh, God, Kate, are you okay?"

Esposito had dragged Maine out of the front seat and the man had collapsed in a heap to the pavement. The engine ticked and pinged with heat and death, smashed in against the concrete divider that the city had put up around some construction work.

"You crashed the car?" she whispered.

"Yeah, I - yeah. I'm sorry, so sorry, baby. I - we couldn't see you in here. I thought-" He buried his mouth in her hair, jerking back when glass scraped him. "Let's get you out of here."

"I can barely move," she said tightly.

"Oh, love, I'm so sorry. I-"

"No, don't be - don't say you're sorry. I was - he was going to kill me."

"Is this guy dead?" Castle gruffed. He was trying to slide his arm under her knees, but he kept getting blocked by a man in a suit - an agent, a bullet hole in his head. "Never mind. Kate, let me get you out of here."

She wouldn't let go of the gun when he tried to take it, but that didn't even matter. Instead of forcing it, he wrapped his arm around her neck, careful of her ribs, and got his other arm under her legs.

"This gonna be okay?"

"I can walk," she said tightly.

"Baby, I don't think you can," he murmured. "You're shaking."

"I'm just - it was just close. It was close. Let me walk."

He carefully lowered her to the pavement and she gripped his shirt with both fists, swaying hard. Esposito had Maine cuffed on the ground and she spared the man a look, then cleared her throat and thanked Espo. Castle brushed broken glass gently from her shoulders, shook it out of her hair, his hands trembling. She swayed and gave him a look; he turned to Espo.

"Can you...?"

"Yeah, I'll stay here with him until FBI and Secret Service show up," Esposito told him.

"Good. Thanks. I'm taking her back to - I guess the apartment." He felt a flutter of apprehension and cupped Kate's elbows. "Do we need - should it be a doctor instead?"

Grimly, Kate shook her head. "No. No, that's - it's good. If we survived Bracken, then a car chase could hardly..." She stepped away from him, but her knee buckled and Castle had to grab her by the back of her jeans, just managing to catch her.

"No, not happening," he growled. "I'm carrying you."

"No," she hissed, her head turning sharply to him. She winced and closed her eyes. "Let me just lean on you. Being carried hurts, Rick. I can't - it hurts."

"I'm sorry," he rushed out. "I'm sorry."

He thought she hadn't been alive in that car; he had hoped - there was always crazy, wild, unfounded hope that she was - that she hadn't - but he'd thought-

"Castle, just get me out of here," she murmured.

"Right," he choked. "Of course. Anything." And he led her carefully away from the SUV towards the Charger, trying not to make things worse.

* * *

She leaned her shoulder against the back of the car's seat while Castle's unsteady hands worked the bump key into the cuffs. Her feet were on the pavement, Castle's body crouched in front of her, and she felt the desperate frustration rolling off of him in waves.

"It's okay," she murmured, splaying her fingers to stroke over his forearms. "It's okay, love. Take a breath and try again."

"I'm not crying," he growled.

"No," she agreed with him. His head was bowed over her. Esposito had found the key in the floorboards under the passenger seat and brought it back to them when Castle had settled her in the car. Even still, he was having a hard time of it.

She understood. It'd been too close.

"You sure we don't need a doctor?" he said, his voice rasping.

"I'm sure. Ribs hurt. That's all. The blood's not mine - it's from rolling around with that dead agent on top of me."

Castle let out a noise that she thought maybe he hadn't meant to, and she leaned carefully forward to kiss the top of his head. He gave up and sank his face into her thighs, an arm wrapping around her bruised hip. She cupped her cuffed hands and laid them on top of his head, stroking through his hair.

He wasn't crying, but he was taking a moment to get it together. She closed her eyes and used the same time to check herself over. Her body ached so fiercely she could - actually - start crying and never be able to stop. But already the pain wasn't flaring knives of agony; sitting down had quieted some of the worst of it.

She was tired and a little hungry and there were bruises on top of bruises, but everything else - beyond that - was okay.

She stroked the edge of his ear. "Wolf's okay too," she whispered.

She was so close that when he lifted his head, she saw the bleak cast of his eyes and how hard it was for him to struggle out of it. "I thought you were dead. I'd left you in custody and he'd gotten to you and I should have - I should have killed him years ago but you - but you-"

"I'm not dead," she said firmly. "I got knocked around a little but I'm fine, Castle."

His face twisted; he totally didn't believe she was _fine_, but - relatively? - yeah, she was. She was fine. Everyone was alive, and she didn't deserve that, but here they all were.

She stroked the side of his face and he turned, pressed his mouth in a kiss at her palm. "Let me get these off."

"You sure?" she murmured, using her voice to lull him. "Cause I can call Espo over here to do it for you."

"You're not funny," he growled, narrowing his eyes and sitting up straighter.

"He'd be happy to oblige," she went on.

"I really ha-"

He'd been about to say it, she knew. About to use their three little words. _I hate you._ But the joke died before it could ever make it out. Kate sighed and held her hands still for him; he worked diligently at the cuffs and finally they sprang open.

"You did promise you'd be the one to release me," she murmured.

His fingers caressed her wrists, took the bracelets off. She curled her hands around his and leaned in, ignoring the way it ripped at her ribs. She kissed him, her mouth pressed to his, almost chaste, soft.

She touched her tongue to his lips and he parted for her with a sigh, his fingers coming up to tangle in her hair, so reverent, so awed that it made her want to crawl into his lap.

But that would hurt. And it might make him collapse. So she only took what was offered and gave everything she could.

"I love you," he rumbled. "I love you so much, Kate."

* * *

"We probably shouldn't have left," she murmured to him when it was quiet.

Castle took the risk of glancing over at her, parking the Charger inside the underground garage. She looked so fierce in the harsh fluorescent light; he saw a bruise forming at her cheekbone and realized that he'd done that. Ramming into the back of that SUV.

"I don't care what we should've done," he said finally. "I let them take you into custody and look what happened."

Her shoulders dropped and she leaned back against the headrest. "Yeah."

"You ready to go up?"

"I don't - yeah. I'm gearing myself up for it."

He smiled because it hurt either way, so he might as well try. "Let me come around and help you out of the car." He got out on the driver's side and pocketed the keys, moving around the back of the car to open her door.

She only sat there, her hands in her lap and fingers curling at her torso.

He sank down to his haunches, touched her knee. She gave him a crooked lift of her lips and he leaned in, kissed her bare elbow, the crook of soft skin.

"You sure about the doctor?"

She sighed and her fingers unfurled at his neck. "Okay, love. You find someone for me to see, and I'll go. All right? Someone for the baby."

He tilted his chin down and pressed his forehead to her arm, a quick breath to keep it together, and then he stood up again. She lifted her hand to him and he took it gently, leaning in to grip the back of her jeans, helping her out of the car.

He heard the grunt she couldn't hold back, and it was just - it wasn't right. "Let me - how about a piggy-back ride? Like in Russia. I don't want you to have to walk-"

"I can walk," she said quietly. "I'm not half-dead, Castle. I'm just bruised."

"Half-dead," he repeated. It felt hollow inside him; he didn't know how to fill it up again.

"Poor word choice," she murmured. Her fingers wrapped slowly around his wrist and she came in against his chest. Her mouth laid a kiss to the spot over his heart. "But it's still true, love. Not half-dead, not dead, despite everything."

"I thought - thought you were," he croaked. It felt shameful to admit it, like he'd lost faith, like he'd given up on them.

She rubbed her cheek against his shirt and hooked her fingers in his pants pockets. "I assumed you had, since you rammed the car into a concrete divider."

He grunted and gripped the back of her neck, trying hard not to crush her. "Yeah," he rasped. "Would never have... never." He let out a long breath. "But we couldn't see you in the back; there was nothing on surveillance cameras. And blood on the passenger window and - and I-"

"Oh, I - was on the floor. I didn't have my balance and no seat belt on because he just took off and I fell over." She shifted against him and sighed. "Can we not do this here? I want to lie down."

"Shit," he whispered. "Yeah, let's go up. Sasha has been worried."

"Oh, my puppy," she murmured.

He let her go, not liking it, and even though she moved stiffly, she was making it. He followed behind her at first, but she kept giving him dirty looks, so he moved alongside her and thumbed the elevator button himself.

His phone vibrated and he dug it out of his pocket, read Esposito's text.

"What's it say?" Beckett asked. The elevator doors parted and instead of getting on, she looked at him.

He walked ahead of her so she'd come, and she did, stepping on with him, pressing the button for their cover apartment herself. She had that sharp spark back in her eyes, the way she could make him spill all his secrets with just an arch of her eyebrow.

"They're not happy. FBI is going to come over and check things out - the apartment - make sure they've got their asses covered. But you're officially under CIA custody."

"I'm in your custody?" she murmured, giving him a sly look.

He grunted and leaned against the back of the elevator, brought her body in slowly against his. He slipped his thigh between her knees to give her a place to rest and she did, laying her cheek to his shoulder.

"Yeah, love. You're in my custody now," he murmured. He dropped a kiss to the curve of her forehead, had to breathe around the jagged ache of how close that had been. How close he'd been to losing her, to hurting her himself in that car crash. Maine had been a worse driver than he'd expected and the SUV had gone straight into the divider, and he hadn't meant to. He hadn't meant to at all.

Castle slowly rubbed his hand up and down her spine, and then the elevator doors opened on their floor.

She didn't move.

"You ready, sweetheart?"

She stirred, finally lifted her head, turned to look. He didn't know what she saw past the empty hallway, but she stiffened her shoulders and still didn't move.

"Kate?"

"It's not home."

"No, love. It's not." He didn't try to pretend it was at all close to home either.

She didn't say anything more, just turned and walked slowly for the apartment door. He stepped off the elevator and followed her, knowing that some sleep would help them both.

He just didn't know if he could face his nightmares.

* * *

He was carefully touching her cheek with his fingertips, caressing the angle of her bone so that it made her even more drowsy. She was nearly asleep on the bed with him, lying on her back with her head in his lap, eyes closed.

"That was Maine," she offered. "I was going for the agent's gun."

His fingers swirled again.

"He was scared of me," she said, lifting her lips in a smile. "I scared him silly."

"That's my girl."

"Not your girl, Rick Castle."

"No, you're right. All woman." His fingers slipped back along her cheekbone to her ear, combing through her hair. "You falling asleep?"

"Getting there," she murmured. "But someone keeps asking me questions."

"Wasn't asking, just touching."

"You weren't asking kinda loudly."

She felt him huff a breath of laughter and she smiled to hear it, opened her eyes to look up at him. He was hovering above her, his fingers caressing her face, and he looked so sad. She raised her hand to his knee and stroked, turned her head to kiss that knee.

"After he got scared, he tried to keep me from getting to the gun. So I concentrated on unlocking the cuffs instead. That key you gave me."

"Fat lot of good-"

"It was hope, Rick." She wished he'd come down here with her, lie at her side so she could touch his face. "You gave me hope. I needed that. Plus, I almost had it. One more second. And then someone rammed the car and the key fell out of my hands."

She grinned up at him but he wasn't laughing. Kate sighed and made herself momentarily miserable to wrap her arm around his neck, pull him down. He grunted and his lips touched her forehead.

"Come down here with me. And call my dog. You two can be my pillows."

Castle kissed her again and slid down the bed, being careful of her - she appreciated that. He snapped his fingers and she heard the dog coming down the hall, quickly, like she'd been waiting for them.

"Don't let her jump up here," Kate said.

"I know. I got it." Castle was already leaning over the bed. He scooped up the dog and placed her right beside Kate. She petted Sasha's back and stroked her fingers through her fur, rubbed the soft ears, cupped her muzzle.

"My sweet puppy," she murmured. "Hey there. Love you."

Castle came down to lie at her other side and she turned her head, snagged a kiss before he knew it was coming. She grinned at him and turned slowly onto her side, her bad hip throbbing a little, so she could offer him her back.

"Come on," she said, pulling his forearm around her. "Crawl in with me."

"Already crawled," he chuckled softly. He sounded better, sounded more like her usual husband. She pulled a knee up and felt him sliding his behind hers, his arm slinging low at her thigh instead of around her waist.

He kissed the back of her neck and sighed, and she hoped he'd get some sleep as well.

"When are the FBI coming over?"

"Esposito met them," he said softly. "Showed them the cameras next door - CIA set up, right? He took them back downstairs."

"Already done?"

"Yeah, love. Already done."

She shivered and he curled at her back a little tighter; she dropped her hand down and laced their fingers together at her thigh.

His kiss came again to her neck, his other hand touched her spine, and she felt her body finally relax. "Think I'm falling asleep," she murmured. "You stay."

"Of course. Never leave you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

Castle leaned back against the geometric-print comforter, glanced around their 'room' in the cover apartment. With Kate asleep beside him, finally, he was noticing things he hadn't before.

The windows were blocked by dark-stained bamboo blinds, completely obscuring anyone's view from the street below. Two large photographic prints dominated the other wall, the kind of things that stared back, dangerous beasts of the wild, and he would actually like them better if he hadn't gone through so many experiences of his own.

Though he'd never tangled with a polar bear. Thank God.

Kate sighed in her sleep and he resumed massaging her scalp, combing his finger through her hair and arranging it over the pillow. She was hunched on her side like it hurt, even asleep, and he leaned in to kiss the bare skin at her sloped shoulder.

He skimmed his fingers in at her waist, lightly moving over the bruises at her ribs, smoothing her shirt out and feeling vulnerable.

No panic room in this apartment. It might be secured with CIA surveillance equipment and Esposito right next door, but it felt unprotected and exposed. He wanted to disappear inside a bank vault with her and not come out again until his pulse stopped jumping every time someone moved too fast.

He was discovering that he had an excellent and often overworked imagination, and while that had given him hope before - all the visions of their future - now it was showing whole feature films starring death itself.

He laid a kiss against her neck to feel her pulse beating slowly under her skin and it helped. What he wanted to do was grab her and never let go, but her bruised ribs made it impossible to cling as tightly as he craved.

He'd never thought of himself as clingy before, though maybe she'd say he was. He just - the hair on the back of his neck stood up all the time now, so that he never felt like they were truly safe, or over it, or past the trouble. He figured this thing with Bracken had been, somehow, his father's doing, but now that the senator hadn't managed to kill her, Castle was sure Black would try again.

There was a slight case to be made for mutually assured destruction, though he sometimes he thought his father would welcome the violence of his own death if it meant getting Beckett out of his son's life.

Castle shivered and crept closer, drawing the blanket up over them. Sasha nosed out from under it, giving him a baleful look, and he petted her between the ears to make up for it.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Stay. Mommy needs you to stay."

Kate shifted under his arm, her body leaning back into his, her eyes flaring open. "Oh, shit, you called me mommy. That is so weird, Castle."

He laughed, surprised she was awake, surprised he could - at all - still laugh. His chest felt like it was going to collapse from the strain of it. "But true," he added.

She hummed and wriggled her shoulder, brought his arm up around her. "You're thinking too much back there. Did you find me a doctor?"

"I thought maybe I could ask Carrie for help."

"Hmm, why?" Kate rolled to her back, now half under him, and she reached up to rub her finger over his chin. "Thought we weren't telling people."

"She'd know civilians," Castle admitted. "I can do a google search all day long but I don't want connections back to the CIA and I don't want to be somehow 'led' to a doctor by... by anyone wanting to..."

"Hurt us," she murmured. "Okay. But if we tell Carrie we need an OB, she'd know. And then I'd have to - I want to tell my dad."

He caught her fingers with his teeth, nipped them, and then had to lean in and kiss her mouth softly. "You want to tell your dad or you have to?"

"Want to," she sighed. Her hand rubbed flat against his cheek and he realized he hadn't shaved for a couple days now. "Since I'm under house arrest, I can't go to him - I can't even go see a doctor either. I'm stuck here. So can they come to me?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly. He wasn't happy about them staying in an exposed, on-the-record apartment, but it was the compromise with the Director - stay in their covers, stay in CIA custody.

"Should it be - won't it be hard to keep an OB's visit secret when the CIA is all over this place?" she whispered.

"Not if we say the doctor is your usual GP. We can hide that fairly easily."

"Yeah?" she murmured. Her fingers came again to his cheek, scratched through his scruff. "Okay, then ask Carrie. Find someone non-CIA. A woman."

"I'll ask her. And what about - if you - do you want to call your father?"

"Not just yet," she said softly. "I want to have you close. You look - Rick - you look like you need..."

"You," he supplied, laying his head down at her shoulder, sighing out slowly. "I should be working with Mitchell to figure out where the leak is coming from. I should be checking in with Esposito. I should be calling Carrie and getting you a damn doctor, but instead I can't move out of this bed. Am I hurting your ribs?"

She curled her fingers around his cheek. "No. Not yet. I'll tell you."

He didn't even need to ask her again, to make her promise, because he knew she really would tell him. "I just want to know you're okay," he admitted. "That it won't be like this. That I won't regret not killing him the hundreds of times I've had the chance."

She was stroking the nape of his neck, around his jaw, her fingers kissing his skin. "I'm really okay. It won't be like this. No one should ever have to kill his own father."

He sighed and curled in around her, jostling the dog and making the wolf get up. Sasha stepped gingerly over Kate's knees and came to lie behind him instead, and he laughed and lifted up on one elbow to ruffle her fur.

"She knows that now _you_ need it," Kate murmured. "Stay there, Sasha. Stay right there for Daddy."

He grunted and flicked the end of her hair off her shoulder. "Yeah, it does sound weird."

"Bad weird or good weird?"

He grinned and leaned in to dust a kiss along her nose. "Good weird. Strange weird. Scary weird. But not bad."

She snaked her arm up around his neck and tugged on him; he let himself drape over her uninjured side again, his head at her shoulder.

"Tell me if I hurt your hip."

"I'll tell you."

He stroked his fingers at her abs and felt the dog lean in against his knees and they were all close, clingy, giving him what he needed but hadn't known how to ask for.

As soon as she fell asleep, he'd call Carrie and ask about doctors. They had a long road ahead of them and there was still an allegation hanging over their happiness, still the chance that Black's plan would work, but right now he could keep her close.

It would have to hold him for now.

* * *

Kate drifted back to awareness with the dull ache in her hip and the sound of his voice around her somewhere. She felt his knee under her cheek and wondered when she'd gotten transitioned to his lap, but it was nice and his calf was drawn up like a pillow under her neck.

But her ribs felt compressed.

She shifted and rolled to get a hand under her, pushed up slowly. Castle's fingers trailed at her shoulder as if offering his help but she managed it. She sat up against the headboard with him, wincing as she probed her ribs with her fingers. He cradled the phone against his ear with his shoulder and snagged her hand, squeezing, but not doing much else.

Apparently he just wanted to touch.

She cautiously leaned her shoulder against him and even though it hurt, what didn't? He looked pleased with it, and he nestled in closer to her, that listening face masking his eyes.

"Okay," he said into the phone. "I got it."

"Who?" she whispered.

He winced. _Carrie_, he mouthed.

Kate grinned and held her hand out for the phone, wriggled her fingers into the crook of his shoulder to take it away from him. "Carrie?"

Her friend didn't squeal - totally not Carrie's style - but there was a rush of excitement on the other end. "Oh, Kate. I'm so - this is amazing. I know you guys have wanted this for a long time."

"Did Rick tell you we're looking for a non-Agency doctor?"

"Yes, yeah, he did. And I actually have a friend from college who lives close to me out here. She'd be great - she'd come here to my house and see you, so it would look innocent enough, if that's how you want to play it."

Kate caught Rick's eye, saw the plea on his face. He wanted this. "How do you know she'd make house calls?"

"She's into this homeopathic stuff. Doulas and water births and - ug, gross - all that. I'm not - just the _idea_ of giving birth is making my skin crawl. Sorry, Kate. I can't talk about this."

Kate laughed, felt her ribs aching even as she did. "But you raise your own chickens. And you had to help that cat that got dropped off give birth like last month."

"Those are animals. People are - people. People I know. Stop, stop, no more talking about it. But I'll call her for you? Rick said-"

"Yes, call her for us," she gave, squeezing his fingers in reassurance. His smile widened and he dropped a kiss to her cheek, like a little boy, bashful and happy.

"Okay, well, all I was doing was giving Rick a hard time for letting you get arrested."

Kate groaned. "Carrie."

"You got arrested, Kate. That's ridiculous."

"I know. We know." And now she knew why Castle had been saying the same thing to Carrie when she'd woken up. "We'll let you know how that goes as well. Do you think your friend could see me here - at _our_ apartment."

"At your apart-" Carrie cut herself off. "Right. Apartment. Yes. I'll ask her. I'm sure she would. And it's first aid, right? Rick said you got kicked in the ribs. You just need first aid." Kate had to give Carrie props for not even sounding like someone trying to use code.

"Yeah," she told her friend honestly. "It hurts. But I'm okay. Just wanted to be - sure." For Castle. Because he needed to take care of her and she could do that; she knew how to cede gracefully now.

"Okay, I'll let you go. I know I'm hard on him, so you be sweet."

"That's probably not going to happen," Kate laughed.

"True. Who needs sweet? Tease him mercilessly."

Carrie hung up and Kate gave him back his phone, softly kissed his frowning mouth.

"I know you were talking about me," he said.

"Of course we were. You're irresistible."

"You know it." He did smile then, a little crooked and a little piecemeal, but she thought he was getting there. She just needed to help him out, give him the chance to care for her.

"I'm hungry," she told him. "You think our jailer would let us order pizza?"

* * *

He warned Esposito ahead of time, worked it all out so that when the pizza delivery came, it was Jim Beckett who brought it up.

Kate was floored. Castle grinned and kissed her forehead. "Stay," he murmured. "I got dinner. Talk to your dad."

"With you," she said quickly, catching his hand. "Together."

Their news. "Of course. But stay on the couch and let me get our pizza and drinks."

They'd been on the couch with Sasha watching stupid television shows that the DVR had recorded - stuff they never watched, never recorded themselves - but they were trying to make it look more normal, lived in, and there wasn't much else to do.

Jim handed over the pizza and patted Castle on the shoulder. "She okay?"

"She's-"

"I'm right _here_," Kate huffed. "Not deaf. Dad get over here."

Castle nodded and Jim gave up on the interrogation, but he looked worried; he knew the FBI's investigation was serious and he knew they'd called him over for a reason. Kate was already grabbing her father's hand and dragging him towards the couch, so Castle went on into the kitchen, hunting for the plates.

First cabinet he opened - there they were. Arranged in the same places as their dishes at home, and that was encouraging. Someone had been paying attention; he knew that Malone had been the one to oversee the cover apartment back when Kate's old place gone up in the bomb, but he hadn't realized how meticulous Mal had been.

And now Malone was dead.

Castle settled the plates on the counter beside the two boxes of pizza, pressed his fists into the granite top. He took a deeper breath and let that sink in, let it hit him finally.

Malone had been shot by these guys, Bracken's guys. And his father had orchestrated it. Black was going to have to answer for it.

Mitchell had been right; there had to be justice for their friend, a man of integrity and hard work and diligence. He'd protected Castle and Kate in this - their cover apartment - down to the last detail, and his locked case had bought Kate enough time to survive Bracken's hit squad.

He'd been so focused on Kate in all of this that he'd lost sight of what else had been taken from them.

This was for Malone too.

"Hurry up, Rick," she called from the living room. "I'm starving. Ouch, it hurts to yell."

He laughed and finished putting pizza slices on plates, slid them along his arm to carry it all out to the living room. "This place could use a few stains, so be liberal about it."

Kate narrowed her eyes at him. "This couch is gorgeous. We're taking it with us and replacing the Ugly couch. So no - no stains."

Jim chuckled and took his plate. "No stains. Got it. You've got a nice place. I'm supposed to be familiar with it?"

Kate was grinning, and the bruise on her cheekbone highlighted the light in her eyes.

Shit. She was amazing; he had to quit looking at her like this.

Castle went back for their drinks, letting Kate fill in her father about their cover. There was milk in the fridge and he couldn't help pouring them all glasses, since her father didn't drink anyway and Kate couldn't.

Kate couldn't.

Wow, it was just rolling over him at the strangest times. How close he'd been to losing all of it, how little it had seemed to matter that she was pregnant if he couldn't save her, if it meant risking her life for some nebulous future.

Castle sighed and brought their glasses of milk into the living room as well, set everything down on the storage ottoman that held their arsenal. Kate smiled at him, that soft thing that meant either her ribs were hurting her or she found him amusing, and she reached out to grip his shirt, tugging a little.

"Sit."

"Milk?" Jim said, giving them a salute with his glass. The pizza was the good stuff from their favorite place, one margarita and one loaded with the veggies Kate loved, but it did all look rather healthy and trying too hard.

Castle sat down with her and her fingers brushed over his thigh, her excitement so evident in her whole body that he could see Jim giving her a thoughtful look.

"Everything okay?" her father asked.

He was worried. Castle should have - of _course_ Jim was worried. They were usually filled with some kind of mission tension when they came to him like this.

"Everything's great," Kate said quickly, turning her head to look at her father now. "Everything's - yeah. Okay. So being arrested and then abducted from FBI custody after nearly being assassinated by a US senator is not really great. But. It's all kind of relative."

"You're alive and under house arrest," her father said easily. "You're right. All kind of relative."

Kate let out a little laugh and then groaned, pressing her thumb against her sternum as if that would minimize the pain. "Ow. I really shouldn't laugh."

"You need more tylenol?" Castle murmured.

"You should take another muscle relaxer," her father cut in. "You seem a little too aware and with it for the last one to still be in your system."

"No," Kate said, and her laugh came out again, another grunt. "No, I can't."

"Don't be stubborn, Katie," her father sighed, sitting forward to brace his elbows on his knees. "I know you hate pills and doctors and all of that, but think of Rick, at least. Every time you wince, he looks like he's been run through."

"No, it's not that," Castle hurriedly reassured. "It's not Kate." Well, it was actually. But. "It's - uh..."

He gave up and turned to her, figured this should be her news, her way of telling him.

Kate was grinning and she slid her foot from the edge of the couch to push on her father's knee, rocking his serious posture. "It's not that I won't. It's that I can't. It's milk for dinner and Castle looking like he's been run through."

"I do _not_ look like that," he grumbled. "Or not because of that."

She smiled at him and curled her hand around his thigh, and then she turned back to her father. "It's only three weeks, Dad, and it's early - we know it's too early to be getting everyone's hopes up - but I'm-"

"You're pregnant," Jim said, sitting back in the chair. "Oh my God. You're - really - I'm..."

"You're going to be a grandpa?" she offered. "We hope."

"Three weeks?" he rasped. "Katie. Oh, Kate, how beautiful."

Castle felt it burst inside his chest like that, the same way, how it swallowed that darkness and dread that seemed to reside permanently in his ribs lately like a hulking vulture. He was so grateful that neither Carrie nor her father had looked at them and asked how they possibly thought they could raise a child as spies, that neither of them even mentioned it, that they had only been happy and excited.

Kate shifted forward to stand and meet her father's embrace, a gentle clasp as he avoided her ribs, and Castle watched, realizing now for the first time that this was happening, had happened; they had made this happen.

"Come here, son," Jim rumbled, gesturing towards him.

Castle got up and joined them, realized that Jim had needed someone he could squeeze tightly, tighter than Kate's ribs would allow, and maybe Castle had too.

"Congratulations," Jim said. "I'm so - I can't wait to meet my grandchild."

* * *

Of course, she thought, beautiful couldn't last.

First it was the cutting ache in her ribs that wouldn't quite dull even with the tylenol she was taking. And then it was the trouble brewing in her husband's eyes, that icy fury that made him deadly, that built up behind whatever else was going on.

Her father said good-night with a kiss to her forehead and his hand gentle at the top of her head. "Take care of yourself," he murmured. "And him too. He looks like he needs it."

She smiled up at him from the couch and watched Castle lead her father to the door. The fact that Jim could see what was going on with Rick meant that it was bad. Usually her father just gently prodded in the right direction; he didn't outright speak of it.

"Rick," she said when he shut the door.

"Yeah." Not an answer, but he came back into the living room, his hands in fists. His jaw worked under his skin and he wasn't sitting down with her.

"What's going on?" she said.

"Nothing. Everything."

"Talk to me," she urged. "Even if you have to pace. I'll just close my eyes and listen so I don't get seasick."

He grunted and she was grateful to pull even that out of him. Though she'd never call it a laugh.

"Talk," she insisted. "Baby likes the sound of your voice."

"Baby doesn't have ears yet," he muttered. But he came to sit on the couch, putting her feet in his lap.

She grinned. "Who cares? I've just figured out that I can blackmail you to do anything if I mention it's for the baby."

He shot her a look as if to see if she meant that, and maybe she did, but he shook his head at her. "You've had me wrapped around your finger from day one, Beckett. Don't need a baby to get you anything."

She forgot about her ribs and shifted forward to just - just _get_ at him - but the sharp yank backwards by her bruised torso made her falter. She knew he could see it too, see what the movement towards him had cost her.

"I know," she said instead. And then she carefully slid closer, drawing her knees to her chest and settling her head at his shoulder. "So talk to me."

"Maine," he spat out.

"Is he dead?"

"No. Secret Service has him in custody. Esposito says the FBI is chomping at the bit to get their hands on him - since he infiltrated their ranks so easily. But we want him too. _I _want him."

She pressed her hand to his thigh to settle the hard jangle of his nerves. He was growling like the dog did, low in his throat, angry, a warning. "Anyone ask him what his plan was? Because there was definitely a plan."

Castle's arm came around her shoulders and squeezed a little too tightly, left her breathless. "What did he say to you?"

"Mostly shut up and sit down. He was threatening something like _I don't care what he said to make it look like_."

"To - to kill you?"

"Yes?"

"Was Black coming here?" Castle whispered.

She palmed his cheek and nudged closer. "Baby, I don't know. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"We have to find out what the plan was. If Black was - or _is_ - here for... for that. If Maine was supposed to meet up with him after taking you, but he never showed, then what did Black do next? These are questions I want to beat him to death with."

Kate sighed. "Castle."

"No. You don't - no. I will use whatever tool is necessary to get him talking, and I will enjoy it."

"No, you won't," she said quietly. "You won't enjoy it, even if you did it. Which you won't, Rick, because that's not how we do this job."

"I used to," he growled.

"No, you didn't. Sweetheart, I know all your secrets. And you've never tortured a man like that."

He gave a growling noise and his face turned into her hair, hanging on a little too tightly as well. She let him have the moment, pressed close together, and then she lifted her shoulder to make him ease up.

He let go and tilted his head back to the couch. "We need Maine in our custody."

"I'm not saying you can't do some sleep deprivation," she said quickly. "Good old-fashioned enhanced interrogation techniques."

Castle grunted and the sound reverberated through his chest and along her ribs. Everything ached; she was so damn tired of hurting in every position.

"How are we going to get custody of him?" she asked.

"Access will do for now. I should..."

"You should?"

"I've left it up to Mitch but it's my job. And I need to know - we have to know what the damn plan was. If Black is in the States again. What the idea was there."

"Obviously, he's Black's man," Kate started, ticking points off on her fingers. "And he was there to kill me. Why did he choose that time to do it?"

"We'd outed him to the FBI. We ID'd him and the Director sent that information over when he asked for you to be placed under house arrest. Demanded it, actually. Made his job a lot more difficult. You know it's hard to hide those big secrets - like the fact that you're not an NYPD detective working undercover but a spy."

She grinned. It still felt - there was still this thrill that raced through her when she heard him say it like that. "Yeah. So Maine hears going to be detained and he arranges to abduct me instead."

"Yeah, pretty last minute it seems because he didn't cut the security cameras and he just shot out of there like a bat out of hell. I mean - not planned at all. Otherwise."

"I'd be dead," she said calmly. Her bruised ribs from earlier and nearly being shot in the head by Bracken just made this episode with Maine all the more ridiculous - and hard to fathom. She had been fighting for her life but she'd really just been rolling her eyes and trying to work past her own body's pain to get a damn handcuff key and a weapon.

"You'd - yeah. So that part wasn't in the plan. Which makes me wonder, what _was_ the plan? And now that it's fucked, what happens to Black. To you. Kate, I can't help thinking we've just been _lucky_ and that won't hold."

"Okay. So we interrogate Maine. Not beat him to death - I didn't say that - but we get the truth. He's going to want a deal, Castle. I mean, he's not stupid. We play him. We let him think you've lost it, that you've got the green light to completely-"

"_Brutalize__ him_-"

"-go against procedure," she inserted, casting him a withering look, "and do your own thing. And then I go in and offer him the deal."

"You're not going anywhere," he growled.

She opened her mouth to protest and Rick went soft, hands gentle around her face, his body shifting into hers, foreheads touching.

"I mean - Kate, love, you can't. You're under arrest. You can't go with me to torture him."

"Please stop using the word torture," she said tightly.

"Beat him."

"Castle."

"Severely dislocate every joint in his body?"

"_Rick_."

"Okay, okay. Let's hold off on labels. We'll leave it nebulous-"

"No. No wiggle room for any of that," she growled. "You think I don't hate him? He tortured Reynolds for days."

"And he tried to kill you. Because my father sent him."

"But I'm better than that, better than Maine. And I'm better than your damn father," she said heatedly, unable to stop it, unable to hide it from him. "I hate him. I despise him - what he's done to you, to us, and I won't let this be another thing-"

"Okay," he whispered, his cheek brushing hers. "It won't. Won't be another thing."

"You promise me? You do this right."

"I - I promise to use acceptable methods of interrogation, limit it mostly to psychological warfare."

She swallowed hard and shifted into his lap despite the protest from her ribs. She didn't care. She wanted him to _feel_ what this meant to her. "We're not them. We're better than them. We _love_. We love."

"Yes," he murmured, still cradling her face.

"We love," she repeated.

"Love," he answered.

She wasn't sure if it was agreement or just him calling for her, but it worked either way.

"Then let's work on getting custody of our prisoner."


	6. Chapter 6

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

Castle cast his wife an amused look as he came inside the bedroom. There were two Secret Service agents and Rachel McCord with him, and evidently, Kate hadn't been expecting guests.

She was lying on the floor with her feet hooked over the mattress, reading the laptop kinda sideways. He had no idea how she was accomplishing it. He knew she was deep in the scanned files they'd taken from the Congo station, reading through them once more for clues. It was a collection of chunks of information - handwritten notes, official CIA memos, intraoffice letters, declarations of intent, blood test results. He never could get anything coherent, but she was always trying to piece together the details of the regimen.

"Kate," he had to call, gaining her attention. McCord laughed a little and Kate shut the laptop, her eyes glancing to him.

Kate shifted slowly, slid her feet off the bed, and then she lifted her arms, wriggling her fingers at him in silent command. Castle leaned over and helped her up, and when she was leaning close and getting her balance, he heard her soft question at his ear.

"Cover or real?"

"Stick to the story," he confirmed.

She stepped away from him and greeted McCord first. "Rachel. Please tell me you're here to say I'm no longer under arrest?"

"Sorry, Detective Beckett. Still under arrest. But at least you're home." Rachel stepped in and gripped Kate's elbows, a lean in that he supposed was a substitute for a hug. Castle could see her whisper something in Kate's ear, and his wife relaxed.

"So what do you all need from me?"

"A statement about the abduction and then the car accident."

Kate nodded and Castle turned to slide the laptop under the bed along with the notes Kate had been making.

"What was that about?" McCord asked, gesturing to the floor.

"Ribs hurt. Can't find a comfortable position," Kate answered easily. "After the day I've had, kinda desperate to just - you know - relax."

But Kate shot him a quick look and he nodded; he'd gotten everything hidden. In between checking the Congo files for references to Maine or the merc team from Tunisia, she had been doing some research on Maine's last known. Castle had gotten them into the CIA's secure network and they were going back through video surveillance footage from the federal building. He hoped to track Maine's movements - when he had showed up, where he'd been, whom he might have called. Technically Beckett shouldn't have access to that kind of thing, but they were building a profile to use against Maine when they questioned him.

Because they _would_ be questioning him. And since Castle's unborn kid hadn't developed ears yet, he was all for making him... talk.

"Kate, you want to do this in the bedroom or back in the living room? Whatever is most comfortable for you."

"Nothing is really comfortable," Kate said. They'd agreed to use her injuries to pressure the various agencies and the media as well, play up her suffering for the cause, the undercover police officer hurt in the line of duty. "But the living room is fine. Rick, when did you say the doctor was coming?"

"We have an hour," Castle answered.

"Has this been approved?" one of the agents frowned.

McCord rolled her eyes. "This is Agent Spade. He's in charge of our side of the Maine investigation. Agent Spade, this is Detective Beckett and her husband, Rick Rodgers."

He shook hands with the agent. Spade's chiseled looks, his impeccable suit, made Castle think he was politically-minded, upwardly mobile. He wasn't sure that was good for Kate's case or not.

And Castle was a civilian now, right? He didn't have to play nice. "Spade?" he said. "My wife has been kicked in the ribs, shot at, taken into custody, and then _kidnapped_ while in the FBI's care - I don't give a fuck if the doctor is or isn't on the list. She's getting treated. It's not like I can _take her _somewhere."

Agent Spade didn't step back physically, but he definitely had the flinch in his eyes.

Castle let go of his hand and took Kate's elbow. "Need help?" he murmured.

He knew it irritated her for him to ask, to keep offering, but it was part of the plan to play up the injuries. So Kate nodded and let him lead her towards the living room, going ahead of the agents, ignoring the calculating look that Spade was giving them. He settled Kate on the couch and propped her up against the pillow; she squeezed his wrist and lifted an eyebrow that clearly meant he should back off.

He wasn't interested in backing off.

"You have an hour," he said to the agents. "And then her doctor is here."

Castle went back to the bedroom and closed the door, pulled out the laptop from under the bed. He knew he wasn't supposed to be in the room for her statement, no matter that they'd already concocted what they could to leave Castle's role obscured, but he wasn't interested in Spade. What he really wanted to do was feel the bones in Maine's nose crush under the impact of Castle's fist, and preparing for that moment instead would have to do for now.

When he opened up the laptop, he grinned. Beckett was a genius at the interrogation room, and she'd already outlined their plan of attack on the computer. No wonder she'd gone back to looking at the Congo files.

Now Castle needed to work his connections to get Maine back into CIA custody - and preferably straight into Mason's hands. No one else.

He wasn't about to leave this investigation in the hands of guys like _Spade_.

* * *

Beckett was grateful when Spade, McCord, and the third agent - Waite - left her before their hour was up. It had been mostly Kate giving her statement about the kidnapping, pressing formal charges against Maine, and allowing Spade a chance to see for himself what she was like.

Or that's what Kate figured, since Spade mostly sat back and observed. She didn't think they'd have too much to worry about with him, but she had kept everything neutral and made certain that her answers fell in line with their cover story - down to the very last detail. Esposito, who was on guard duty and who was a long-time co-worker, had been given the role of hero in the story of the accident; he had been the one to drive Maine's SUV off the road and free her. She had even admitted to the GPS tracker from her 'lawyer.'

Kate figured Castle hadn't been interested in hearing her praise Espo for his own role, and that still amused her, but Castle hadn't come back into the living room. That probably had reassured Spade as well when it came to their story.

McCord gave her a wink as they left, the trio heading down the hallway to catch the elevator. Kate felt an actual smile in response, and she barely even flinched when Esposito gave her an apologetic look and closed the door on her, audibly locking it.

She slumped, feeling absolutely every single bruise along her ribs and across her pelvis, like the bones themselves were filled with hairline cracks spiderwebbing into the marrow. Kate leaned her shoulder against the wall and closed her eyes, keeping her breaths shallow and her movements minimal, trying to regain some of the adrenaline high she'd been on for the last few hours.

Kidnapped, kicked, nearly shot, only to be arrested, kidnapped again, and then rescued by her husband. And before all that - pregnant.

Pregnant.

The door chimed and she startled so hard that her breath caught at the pain; she had to hold still to keep from making it worse and meanwhile, Castle came out of the master bedroom.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Be that way in a second," she admitted, touching her fingertips to her side. Castle passed her to open the door and he nodded to Esposito who was escorting a smartly-dressed woman. The doctor.

"I'm Dr. Dennison - Mary Dennison. Carrie's told me so much about you two."

Kate glanced to Rick but he only smiled and shook the woman's hand, gestured her towards the couch. The doctor was about ten years older than them - well, older than Rick - and she had the same self-possession that Carrie had as well. Her slacks were tailored to her nearly six-foot frame, her blouse a pale pink with a kind of neck scarf attached - something regal and sophisticated about her.

Not exactly the hippie, new-age doctor that Carrie had told them to expect; in fact, Dr. Dennison looked like she had a lucrative practice. Dark-haired, green-eyed, so tall she looked like a volleyball player, Dr. Dennison made her way easily for the couch.

"Thanks for coming," Rick said. He reached back for Kate, lowering his voice, aiming his next words at her. "Need help?"

She eyed the distance between herself and the couch, but she shook her head. She could do this; it was only a few steps. "I got it."

He left her there, a testament to how much he truly had changed over the years. He knew she didn't exactly have it, that she was hurting and struggling, but now he was able to let her suffer through if that was what she wanted.

She did. Why, she still didn't exactly understand, only that suffering was life and if she was slogged through, then maybe she deserved the life she'd been given - because at least this way she was working for it. Thanks to Dr King for that much insight.

Kate managed to make it to the couch, slowly and in pain, but she did it. Castle kept an eye on her as he answered Dr. Dennison's questions, and Kate knew she'd be compromising for him in the near future - giving him something to make up for this, for how he'd given her this moment to assert herself.

She was kind of looking forward to it.

"Kate," Dr. Dennison said warmly. "How do you feel?"

Kate gave the woman a droll look. "Like I've been kicked in the ribs a couple times."

Dr. Dennison only smiled back, like she dealt with kicked-in ribs all the time. "Apart from that, of course. Internally, how does this feel for you - are you strong, hesitant, making it, not sure - what? Just, close your eyes and search it out within yourself."

What? No. Not-uh. Kate Beckett didn't do _close your eyes and search it out._

"I feel fine," she quickly, shooting Castle a look. "I'm fine. I mean, I hurt, of course, but it's not - it's separate."

"Separate," Dr Dennison said, reaching out and squeezing Kate's hand. "Very good. I like that answer. The bruised ribs are separate from the pregnancy. That sounds excellent."

Rick gave her an equally hesitant look but he shrugged. _Just got with it._ If Carrie had recommended her and they were friends and she wasn't CIA... Kate was willing to suffer through this as well.

"All right, Kate. I've got everything here to exam you - just a preliminary thing - once we've talked a little more. I've also brought two weeks' worth of pre-natal vitamins since you can't exactly go out and get those at the moment."

Kate felt some small measure of relief and nodded to the woman. "House arrest is slightly limiting," she murmured, giving the woman a nod.

Dr. Dennison chuckled and squeezed Kate's hand before releasing it. "A sense of humor is important. I'm sure Carrie told you stories about me - and they're all true. I employ a holistic approach to obstetrics, which means that I'm going to care for your whole being, body and mind and spirit. Everything is interlocking, Kate, Rick, and while you guys are in a fairly stressful situation, I think I can help you keep your baby healthy."

Why did that sound so damn amazing? Kate couldn't help sinking back against the couch cushions with a relief that flooded through her, even though her ribs sharpened at the pressure. Didn't even matter, because here was a woman who was going to help her _keep it_.

Castle was looking at her in askance.

"Sounds good," Kate said into his silence. "What do we do first?"

"I'll get a medical history from your both, do my exam, and we'll talk about the course of our next nine months together. Okay? I'll give you some breathing exercises, some centering practices to help keep your blood pressure and heart rate steady, and ways to keep yourself feeling strong, make the baby strong too."

It sounded so ridiculous, but Kate couldn't help wanting it to be just that easy. Keep everyone strong with some damn breathing exercises - let it be that simple.

Dr. Dennison stood and held out both hands to Kate. "Come on. We'll do this in the bedroom."

Kate took the woman's hands and let the woman help her up, seeing the astonished confusion cross Castle's face. She reached out on her way to the bedroom, combed her fingers through his hair, tugged a little.

He huffed but he didn't stop her.

She had never been the kind of woman who leaned on other people, but in this case, she was so very grateful to them all for it: Esposito, Mason, Mitchell, McCord, Ryan, Carrie, her father, her husband, and now this doctor as well.

They formed a ring around her; they were going to help her keep the little wolf alive.

* * *

Sasha pricked her ears, warning Castle, and then Dr. Dennison came out of the bedroom alone and softly shut the door. Castle stood to meet her, glancing past her shoulder, his feet already starting to take him forward.

"She fell asleep." Dr Dennison stopped him with a wink.

Castle hesitated and glanced to the bedroom doctor. "Oh. That's good."

"I gave her some relaxation techniques - should help with the pain too. I'm also going to write a prescription for a muscle relaxer that can be taken, though Kate said she didn't want it. Just in case she changes her mind."

Maybe he'd change her mind; she needed sleep and he knew she'd been waking every few hours because of the pain. "Thanks," he added, taking the paper from her. "And for coming out here."

"I'm excited to be on this journey with you," Dr. Dennison said. "Don't hesitate to call if you have questions. I'll see you both in a week."

He nodded and showed her to the front door where Esposito was already waiting; Castle saw Reynolds in the hallway, which meant Mason was out working on getting custody of their prisoner. He waited while Reynolds escorted the woman to the elevator and then he handed Espo the prescription.

"Can you get this filled for us? And maybe some potato cakes at that Jewish deli Kate loves. It's on-"

"Yeah, I know the one. Ryan took me once."

"Where _is_ Ryan?"

"Working with Mason," Espo answered. "They're talking with the Director and trying to arrange custody of that bastard."

Maine, he meant. Castle nodded and watched the elevator open and allow the doctor inside, and then Reynolds was trotting back to them for an impromptu meeting in the hallway.

"You weren't watching Dr Dennison examine Kate, were you?" he asked them.

Esposito flushed red at his ears and snarled something in Spanish that Castle couldn't quite catch; he took that to mean _hell, no_. Reynolds shook his head.

"No, there's no bedroom or bathroom cameras. The feed from the windows and doorway are all live, plus the fish-eye in the living room. That's all."

"Thanks, guys. Where are we on the official inquest into the shooting?"

"Bracken you mean," Espo said darkly. "IAB is being slow to make their ruling, but probably next week we'll know. Captain Gates has been texting me updates."

"Oh, good. You think she's reliable?"

"Definitely." Espo's confidence was rock solid and it made Castle confident as well.

"All right, and what about the FBI agents that were in here?"

"I planted a bug on Spade," Reynolds said coolly. "He hasn't discovered it yet. Listened to him take a dump right before a big meeting."

"Thanks, Ren," Castle said wryly, shaking his head. "What was the meeting about?"

"You don't want to know how his bathroom break went?"

"Spare me," Espo muttered.

"The meeting, Ren."

"Yeah, Spade was giving a debrief to his boss, McCord was in the room as a liaison, so it's all up and up. Sounds like Spade seems to believe Beckett, so we have that going for us. He mentioned two points though - and you should hear something from Mason soon, but-"

"What?" Castle said impatiently. He didn't like being stuck on the other side of an operation, some civilian accountant.

"Spade pointed out that Beckett was taken but Malone was shot, and then Maine grabbed Beckett alive a second time - so he figures there's some ulterior motive no one has guessed at."

"Well, we know what that is," Esposito said with a snort. "It's this dude's asshole of a father."

"Black," Castle sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Right. So Agent Spade is going to be poking around into why Beckett was snatched and not outright killed."

"His second point has to do with that. Elaborate set-up to have Maine planted at the FBI - the cover story, the ID, all those strings that got pulled, the favors, burned bridges. Spade thinks Beckett knows something she isn't supposed to, has information that someone wants back or just wants to silence her."

"About Bracken maybe?" Castle asked. "Huh, that could work in our favor."

"So I had this idea," Reynolds went on, "that we could have McCord subpoena Beckett for the grand jury testimony."

"We weren't going to do that," Castle said, his hackles rising at the thought of exposing his wife.

"No, I know," Reynolds said calmly. His face was still bruised from the beating he'd received at Black's hands, but he wasn't nearly as twitchy and irritable as Castle.

Rick took a breath to fight back the urge to dismiss the man's suggestion. "Okay," Castle said slowly. "Tell me why."

"If she's called to testify then that just seals the deal for Spade. He gets everything tied up - but not too neatly - and his curiosity is satisfied. He closes the case assuming Beckett had evidence against Bracken that the man wanted, and that Maine was taking it upon himself to make sure that info didn't see the light of day. There are still questions, but most investigators feel those are par for the course."

"Okay, all right. That might work." He rubbed his chin as he mulled that over, turned his head to Espo. "What about the leak?"

"We don't know yet. It doesn't have to be a leak in the CIA-"

"Someone fed Black information about the case against Bracken and that was eyes-only stuff."

"Yes, but the Secret Service was part of the Task Force, Castle. There are a lot more people on this than you might think. We're going through contact points, seeing where everyone is connected, but it takes time."

"Bring me a secure laptop, then," he said finally. "Kate is using mine. We'll do our share of the work. I'm anxious to know _who_ - and plug the leak."

Reynolds didn't look happy, but Esposito knew him - knew Kate as well - and he'd get them the equipment they needed to help with the inside investigation. Because even a civilian accountant could do an internal audit.

Internal audit. Huh, actually.

"Guys, get the auditors on this. Top priority access, but they might be able to detect patterns in spending and requisitions that we haven't seen. It takes money to fund Black's off-book movements, and that's got to come from somewhere."

"Yo, Castle, channeling your inner accountant?" Espo snarked.

"Maybe in another life," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Get on that and we'll see what shakes free."

* * *

Kate was tugged softly up by the sounds of typing on a keyboard, fingers moving quickly over the keys, inventing stories and visions with ease. She floated on the soft, rounded edge of her sleep, listening to Rick Castle pull words out of the air. The light was dim and her body was warm and the bed like a gentle hand and her dream wrapped around her.

The pause in typing was startling in its unfamiliarity, the sound of silence at her back rather than the continuous lull of writing.

No, no, she thought. That wasn't right. She opened her eyes to the dark bedroom that wasn't her own, the touches of brown and black that spoke of a male influence, the padded headboard in its geometric design, the bedside alarm clock she'd never even touched before.

This wasn't her life; she wasn't the wife of a writer - writer? no, his cover ID was an accountant. An accountant; she had to remember, keep it straight. Her life depended on-

Oh, not her life. This life. The baby that they had to keep secret, so secret she'd tucked away the truth of it into some fantasy side of her mind and now she was dreaming strange worlds with writers and poets and a curious boy who looked like her.

She turned slowly from her side to her back and Rick was watching her.

"You feeling okay?" he murmured.

"Things hurt but... I'm okay," she said. It was mostly true. Her ribs ached from lying in one spot too long, but she had learned to survive the pain, to breathe past it.

"Dr Dennison wrote a prescription for muscle relaxers. I got it filled; it's on the bedside table with some water."

She didn't even turn her head to look; instead, she curled up against his thigh and hip, laid her head on his leg even though it hurt. "Was that your not-subtle way of telling me to take a muscle relaxer?"

"Yes. Did it work?"

"No, baby. It didn't."

"But I can see you're hurting, Kate. The moment you woke, your whole body went stiff."

"I was having a strange dream. About us."

"Oh? What about?"

"It's already gone," she sighed. "But I guess you were working on the computer and it got incorporated into the dream. You were writing me a story. A detective story."

Castle snorted. "Why would I do that? We _live_ that."

"I know," she shrugged, but that hurt too and she wouldn't be able to lie here like this for long. "Never mind. I might take a pill later. Just to keep you from completely losing it."

"I'm not losing it."

She traced her fingers at his knee. "Not yet, you aren't."

"I won't lose it."

"It's okay to break down a little, sweetheart."

"I'm not breaking down," he growled. "We get through this first. Then I'll break down. And be prepared for bubble boy status."

"Bubble boy?" she laughed, choking on it when it pulled her ribs too hard.

"Yeah, that huge ball of bubble wrap that insulated that kid, kept him germ-free. I don't know when - twenty years ago?"

"No, I know," she laughed. "Boy in the plastic bubble. That movie was _thirty_ years ago, Rick. I think it's just sad that all of your pop culture references are so terribly outdated."

"You're supposed to be educating me," he grumbled. "How is that my fault?"

"Can't do much educating in a sterile environment, wrapped in plastic bubble wrap."

"I guess the panic room will have to do," he muttered. He dropped his hand on her head and combed through her hair. "I'll finish the one I started upstairs. In the baby's room. Yeah? And we can christen it."

She smiled into his thigh and saw Sasha sticking her head onto the mattress in inquiry. "Come on up, puppy. It's okay."

Sasha jumped up and circled the bed, stepping over their legs until she settled in the curve of Kate's body, her nose up against Kate's stomach.

"Does she know?" Rick said, dragging a hand down through her fur. "She can't possibly know, can she?"

"Dogs have a better sense of smell than humans," Kate answered. "Maybe she smells the hormones or something. I just took a pre-natal vitamin that Mary gave me."

"Mary? Oh, Dr Dennison. First name basis, huh?"

"She's... like that," Kate answered. "Can't help it. I like her."

"Good, then she stays."

"What are you working on?" she said, shifting to draw a knee up and give Sasha a pillow for her head. The dog turned and gave her a baleful look, slinked down to the foot of the bed where she could be unmolested.

"Doing an internal audit of our systems," Castle answered. He held out a hand to her as she started to move, helping her sit upright against his shoulder. "Got a second laptop so that you can keep going with the Congo files. Maybe you can figure out who's been leaking information to Black's network by cross-referencing it with those files. Figure it can't hurt - might be in there. A name. Meanwhile, I keep doing this, hope the idiot spent money somewhere."

"You know they might not even _know_ they're doing it," she warned him. "It might be an honest act of-"

"Treason," he cut in bluntly. "Giving secrets to outside agencies is treason."

"You gave _me_ your secrets," she murmured, raising an eyebrow.

"You're different."

She only watched him, but he didn't back down, didn't seem to see the hypocrisy.

"All right," she sighed. "What can I do to help?"

"Take a muscle relaxer and sleep right here next to me."

"No. Rick."

He sighed back and reached over the side of the bed, drew up her laptop for her. "Fine. I knew you wouldn't."

She grinned and leaned in to kiss him, got a sharp taste of his tongue before she pulled back. "You know me too well. And I love you for it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Help me find this guy and maybe I won't feel like the worst husband ever for aiding and abetting you."

* * *

Castle took it as long as he could, but after Kate squirmed again and made that caught-breath noise that twisted his guts, he finally couldn't do it any longer.

"Will you just take the pill?" he exploded, slamming the lid shut on the laptop.

She stared at him.

"Come _on_. I know it's killing you. Why won't you take it? She said it's fine - even for the - for the wolf," he said, dropping his voice now and remembering the walls had ears. Even if they were their own. "Kate, please, just take the pill."

Slowly, so that he barely even noticed, she pressed her fingers to her stomach. "I don't - think it's a good idea."

"It's safe. I googled it - no adverse side effects. No one has reported-"

"No," she said. "Castle. I... I've already done a mostly crappy job of keeping the wolf safe. I can suffer through some pain."

Castle shoved the laptop out of his way and wrapped both arms around Kate, dragged her into him. "You did just fine, Kate. You did - more than - you're alive. You're alive and this will take care of itself, this will be fine. You did such a good job, sweetheart."

She touched her fingers to his, laced them together, and she brought his palm against her stomach. It was electric. He hadn't known it could be like this; it eclipsed the world.

Eclipsed all but her.

He untangled their fingers and gripped the back of her neck, leaning into close. "Please, Kate. You need sleep."

_"You _need sleep too," she said tightly.

"Then we all sleep. Wolf needs sleep as well," he murmured. "Right? Maybe if we all get some sleep, it won't feel like everything's falling down around us."

"Okay," she said finally. "Okay. Half a pill."

Half? "All right," he said. "Half."

"And you actually get some sleep, Castle. You hear me? Muscle relaxers make me so tired that I'll fall asleep and I won't have any way of _making_ you, but you have to."

"I'm still pretty super-" he started.

She pinched his arm for that and grabbed his hand back, squeezing. "Not so super that you're not a little on edge, a little too ramped. You need to sleep, get everything back in perspective."

"Fine. You take half a pill, we both sleep right here. I'll set an alarm."

Castle reached past her and grabbed the prescription bottle, shook one out in his palm. He took it between his fingers and snapped it in half, handed it over to her.

"Am I supposed to be impressed by your display of manly strength?"

"Sweetheart, admit it. You _stay_ impressed."

She smiled at him in return, slowly, as if to say _apology accepted_, and then she took the pill.

* * *

She wasn't all the way under, and she could feel him at her neck, breathing, but the pain had loosened its hold on her bones. She slept on her bad hip and the faint pressure kept her barely awake, kept her skimming the surface, anxiety curling under her skin.

She realized she had curled her legs up in her sleep to protect her jungle parasite.

Castle was at her spine, forehead against her neck, his body curved to meet hers, and his fingertips stroked just above the waistband of her leggings.

"You should sleep," she mumbled, her words more slurred than she'd expected. It was hard to care though, hard to move past the weight that touched her chest and sank her down.

"Can't with you thinking so loud," he muttered.

She didn't like how the muscle relaxer made her feel, how it dragged everything into the mud and made grief her passenger.

No, no, that wasn't her passenger. The little wolf was riding with her; there was no room for grief.

Her breath caught and released and Castle nudged closer; she reached back for him, fumbling until she managed to find his stroking fingers, and she clumsily pulled his arm around her waist, pressed his palm to her stomach, right there, right there, keeping it safe.

His fingers splayed and she sighed, releasing into a drugged, hazy nothing.

"You better sleep," she thought she said. But she couldn't be sure.

* * *

He didn't sleep. He tried, he got close, but at least he could drift like this, knowing she was sleeping and recovering, that the pill would keep her muscles from tensing and making it worse. He got very close, actually, found himself in a strange dissociation where all he could feel was the heat of her skin under his palm and almost - almost - below that - their child.

The wolf like sand in an oyster, a tiny thing worrying at him but eventually a pearl, precious.

He couldn't fully stand down from high alert when so much was on the line. Black was _doing_ something out there and Kate was accused of outright murdering Senator Bracken and now there was this to guard and hide and keep secret, unknown-

But not at Kate's expense. He couldn't - that wasn't an option. It wasn't one or the other.

And even as those thoughts circled and tightened within him, the warmth of his wife worked in him for good, soothing and penetrating every cracked part of him until even the rigid emergency state of his being was brought to rest.

Like a breath being released, he sank into the mattress, into her body, his eyes falling shut.

Outside it had begun to rain.

The water trickling over the roof and pattering against the windows left him further drowsed, until the cove and shelter of sleep hid him at last.

It'd only been a day. One day. They had time to work this out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

Castle had thought they would have time. The days dragged on, but a week had gone by before he'd realized it, and it seemed the world had changed overnight.

Castle woke as if tugged sharply from a previous life, and it took him too long to orient to the night. What day, what week, why was he here?

He reached for a weapon that wasn't there, and then he was wide awake and alert, and he had to consciously relax his body to keep from waking Kate.

His arm was around her waist, palm curled at her abs as if he was the only thing holding her down into sleep. She was so exhausted that her body was completely slack against him, her cheek was pressed into the pillow and she'd turned to practically lie on her stomach.

With his hand trapped under her.

He wouldn't move though; he wouldn't do that to her. But his brain was racing and he felt out of control of things, and he needed to _work_. A week of spinning his wheels, getting nowhere, and he knew the world outside was creeping in on them, demanding recompense, assigning blame.

Castle stayed as quiet as he could and reached his other arm past her for the remote control, turned the television on. He thumbed down the volume until it was muted, watched the pictures for a moment before they registered.

Breaking news. Footage had been released that showed Kate Beckett being driven away in the FBI underground parking garage, Maine at the wheel.

Below that was the sensational tag: _Alleged shooter had an inside man._

The closed captioning popped on and Castle read it with growing dread.

The anchor was reporting that 'confidential sources' confirmed that Kate Beckett, the undercover NYPD officer, had been allegedly liberated from FBI custody with the help of a man now known to be a paid mercenary.

Sources could not confirm her current location.

Shit.

* * *

They were running out of time.

Anxiety pinched sharply at Kate as she searched through the clothing in her closet - not her closet, really, but it had been two weeks of living here under their cover identities, and she'd started to adopt the place.

Sasha nosed the back of her bare knee and Kate leaned down and scratched between the dog's ears.

"Kate, you're not dressed?"

She glanced up at Castle. "I'm getting paranoid," she muttered.

"I promise you're not showing. Not to anyone."

"I need looser shirts," she said tightly. "Remember that purple shirt I always used to sleep in? Something like that. It's in fashion now anyway, the tunic top."

"I'll get you some like it," he said, heading into the bedroom and taking her by the elbow. He kissed her cheek and his fingers flared over her skin, moved to brush her waistline. "I promise you, Kate, we've got time."

It didn't feel like it. Still under house arrest, still working ineffectually to clear her of the shooting, still worried that Black was out there. Every day was another day it got harder to hide her pregnancy.

"Dr Dennison is coming tomorrow," he murmured. "You can ask her how it's going. How are the ribs?"

She nodded and put her hands on her hips, subtly measuring her own waist. _She_ couldn't even tell, but she was losing it standing here in front of the skimpy closet. "Ribs are fine. I mean, I hurt with every breath, but not like it was."

"Good, good. Here," Castle said. "This one." He leaned forward and yanked an off-the-shoulder striped top from the hanger, pulling the cream and navy towards her. She bit her bottom lip and took it from him, pressing the shirt to her chest.

Castle kissed her, rubbing his lips over hers until she eased into it, allowing him to gentle her. She'd never felt so damn vulnerable before, knowing now that any stupid move on her part could ruin all of this.

"We have time. Now get dressed and come on out. My mother just arrived and I need you."

* * *

Castle came out of the bedroom with Kate at his back and he smiled at his mother; she'd made herself at home in the kitchen - of all places - and was removing the top on the cake she'd made.

"Oh," Kate breathed, moving forward to help. "You really made his birthday cake. Rick, come look at this. It's wonderful."

"I figured now more than ever," Martha said, as if that actually made any sense. Still, Castle came into the kitchen with them and glanced at the cake, surprised when the scent triggered memories.

"You used to - make that for me."

"For your birthday," Martha said, glowing as if it was high praise. And maybe it was. Castle knew he wasn't the easiest to converse with when it came to her. "Strawberry with lemon frosting. Don't ask - you always wanted the two together."

"It smells amazing," Kate said. He glanced at her and saw with a chuckle that she was practically nose-deep in the frosting, her eyes closed.

"Don't fall in," he laughed, touching her waist lightly in case he actually had to rescue her.

She straightened up and beamed at his mother, giving her a hug and that air-kiss thing they did. "You did such a good job. And I'm glad; I haven't had the endurance to even think about making pie. Castle, you mind?"

That she hadn't made him a pie? "Hell, no," he muttered, rolling his eyes at her.

Martha gave him a little tsk of disapproval - for the language, like he was five again - and she busied her hands around the rim of the cake stand. "Well, I'm glad it's welcome. I'm - so honored to be here."

Kate was giving him intense looks, nudging looks, and he knew it was the perfect time to speak. Only he couldn't come up with the words.

"Martha," Kate said into his silence. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Oh, yes," she answered, a little too relieved.

Castle moved to get it but Kate waved him off, obviously intending for him to take the opportunity to start this conversation. "Ah, Mother... thank you for coming." He paused, mouth open, not sure what came next.

"Where is everyone else, darling?" Martha said then, glancing around at the empty place. "You are allowed guests, aren't you? Even witih all this hoopla?"

Hoopla being... his wife's house arrest?

"We're allowed guests. It's a controlled list, but you are most definitely on it," Kate answered for him. "We wanted you here earlier than the others, though. Right, Castle?"

He pressed his hands to the countertop and took in a deep breath. It was more disturbing than he'd realized, telling his mother about the baby, and it wasn't just because he was feeling trapped, caged, and paranoid.

His mother was - this was his mother. She'd made him a strawberry cake with lemon frosting, and all of the sudden he was remembering that he had sat in her lap to blow out the candles, and there'd been all these theatre people around him in various stages of make-up and costuming, and his mother had patted his back with both hands and then cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

"We're having a baby," he blurted out.

Kate stared at him, lifted her hand to her mouth in what he first mistook for horror.

But she was laughing at him.

Martha gasped, shock and joy in the intake of her breath, and then she _squealed_ and came around the counter to throw her arms around him. She squeezed tightly, forcing a grunt out of him, and then she did it - she cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

"Oh, my son..." She spun around and went for Beckett next, handling her with more care, a hand at her neck and kissing both cheeks as she exclaimed over them both. "Congratulations, oh, this is wonderful. What a joy - beautiful, wonderful, amazing news - oh, how far along are you - it has to be so early, you are as thin as a stick-"

Kate was laughing and hugging her back, even with ribs that must be getting brutalized in all of his mother's squeezing, and Martha kept petting her hand or her cheek or touching her stomach as she effervesced.

He felt like he'd run through a gauntlet only to get skewered right at the end. Martha turned back to him then, clasping his hand with one of hers, gripping Kate's with the other, and she brought their hands together against her bosom, glowing at both of them.

"What wonderful news on your birthday," she beamed. "I can't wait to tell everyone I know that my son is having a baby."

Kate winced.

Castle gave her a brittle smile. Now he had to explain to her that she couldn't tell a single soul.

This was a really bad idea.

* * *

Since Martha _always_ looked that regal and joyous, it really didn't strike anyone as strange, which Kate was glad for - if only for Castle's sake. Her ribs still hurt when she moved too fast, but she had either her father or Castle or Ryan right at her side all night long, eager to help.

Castle had done the cooking, of course, which had been the plan all along, and she was grateful Martha had offered to make the birthday cake, since Kate wasn't really able to do a lot of moving around in the kitchen. Not right now. Bending over was brutal.

Her father came up to her at the kitchen island with his glass of water, raised it in cheers. Most of their guests had arrived and were clustered in the living room, though Castle kept giving her looks over his shoulder, always checking on where she was.

"He's worried about you," Jim said easily, coming up at her side. "I suppose you told Martha?"

"How'd you know?" Kate laughed. She turned her cheek to receive her father's light kiss, and he drew his arm around her shoulders for a soft hug. "She's really happy about it."

"Not that she's not usually - ah..."

"Dramatic?"

"She has a flair," Jim acknowledged. "But this seems more."

"We had to," she said. It still worried at her even now. "I know it's early, but there's so much going on. Still..."

"Don't think about it," was her father's advice. "The bruised ribs, this whole mess of a arrest - those are already difficult enough. Don't add the stress of unfounded worry."

"Unfounded?" she said, rising her eyebrow at him. What did he know of-

"Katie," he chided. "Everything's fine. That's what the doctor said. And while, yes, things happen, you can't keep plunging into that kind of doubt and fear. It's not healthy for either of you. And him too." He lifted his glass and pointed across the living room at Castle.

And she knew he was right. "I just don't - want to lose it. We've been trying and things keep getting in the way and this is the worst timing, Dad-"

"Yes, well," he chuckled, "I remember your mother saying the same."

Kate went still, and from across the room, she saw Castle disengage from Mitchell and come for her, concern etched into his features. She waved him off, taking a breath, and her father sighed.

"Didn't mean to blindside you," he said. "Katie. It's wonderful - she'd have been so happy for you."

"Kate, are you okay?" Castle said, coming into the kitchen and hovering.

She cleared her throat and pushed him away from her, shaking her head. "It's my - mom." Kate gave him a crooked smile and his shoulders eased, his eyes growing tender.

"Your mom," he repeated softly. He gave Jim a quick look and then he wrapped his arms around her, his lips sliding across her cheekbone. "She'd have been right here."

"Yeah," Kate said, felt the water in her voice. "Enough, that's enough. Let me go. I'm fine."

She wasn't, and he knew that, but he let her go.

"It's your birthday. Come on," she said. She gripped his arm and moved him back towards the living room, her other hand catching her father's sleeve and tugging him along as well.

She could see it on Castle's face, what her doubt and grief did to him, and she was determined to be better.

Like her father had said - don't go looking for trouble. They had now, and she was going to celebrate her husband's birthday and look forward to November - and another birthday, this time not her own.

* * *

Beckett stood in the doorway and watched the two men pack. Swiftly, without sentiment, they pulled minimal clothes and essentials into one black duffle, Esposito barely looking at her while Castle kept passing her to touch her arm in reassurance.

She wasn't reassured.

A week ago when they'd talked about this, about packing a go-bag, she'd thought it was kind of amusing that _most_ expectant parents packed a different kind of bag but not them; they were preparing fake passports and ready cash.

It wasn't amusing now.

She was six weeks pregnant and she'd been charged with conspiracy. Maine had been hidden away from even the Director of the CIA by the FBI's investigative team, and no matter what kind of prying McCord did, they couldn't get even a location.

Castle was pissed, of course, that the FBI had a tighter ship than they did.

She'd seen Dr Dennison last week and everything was fine, her ribs healing; Dr Boyd was coming to New York to pay her a visit as well. She'd been keeping in regular contact with Boyd and Logan and Threkeld, and they were putting their heads together, bouncing ideas off one another about the baby, about Castle, about his malformed red blood cells and the lipoproteins and mitochondria formation. She seemed to be physically okay - doing great, actually - and even her darkest fears about the regimen had been allayed. And now this.

Conspiracy to commit murder. A murder charge was just down the road, and they all knew it.

Esposito placed the documents package wrapped in silver duct tape into the black duffle bag, the very last item, and Castle zipped it up. Javier took the straps and slung it over his shoulder, gave her a terse nod as he left their bedroom.

Castle seemed to know she was affected. He reached out and grabbed her by the elbows, dragged her into him. He didn't offer platitudes this time, didn't try to make her feel better.

He was planting a bag filled with fake passports and an anonymous life for them; he had made plans for them to leave everything behind.

It was that bad.

He cupped the side of her face and still he said nothing.

She'd been charged with conspiracy to commit the murder of a US elected official. There really wasn't anything to say to that.

* * *

Castle hunched over, elbows on his knees, and surveyed the little room. He was in the security station next door to their apartment, Reynolds and Ryan both looking to him for the next move, but he had nothing.

Esposito was out hunting down a former Special Forces friend, trying to hit the guy up for intel, but they were grasping at straws.

"I'm not always sure of McCord," Reynolds said finally. "I know you don't want to hear it. I know no one wants to say it, but she's AG. She's not Secret Service - and she's not _us_. If anyone should be able to get a location on Maine, it would be her; but she hasn't."

"She knows we just need him for information," Ryan said in McCord's defense. "She knows we're not looking to railroad this investigation."

"Does she?" Castle scraped out. "I don't know that's even true, Ry. If it comes down to it, I will - make no mistake - I will railroad this investigation. I will do whatever it takes to keep Kate out of jail."

"She's not going to jail," Reynolds said. He was so quiet, so calm, so in control of it. Of course, it wasn't his pregnant wife they were talking about. "She won't go to jail, Rick."

Castle rubbed the bridge of his nose and at least - at least they had a plan. He and Esposito were the only two who knew the full details, how they'd leave the country if it came to that.

Kate was seriously not thrilled with him, but if they had to - they would. He still didn't know yet what to do about her father. Jim Beckett didn't deserve to be separated from his grandchild, his only family, and Castle didn't want to have to do it.

To Kate either.

"Boyd is here," Ryan said then.

Castle lifted his head and glanced at the monitor, saw Dr Boyd being waved through security. He knew he should go and meet the man, since it was partly about him as well, but he was just... restless. He wanted to _move_, but they were both trapped in her house arrest and the walls were closing in and he couldn't get anyone in charge to fucking listen to him when it came to his wife.

Conspiracy to commit murder? Right.

Except he knew - he knew deep down - that they _had_. He and Beckett had planned it, what they would be forced to do, how they'd lock themselves in a room for however long it took to hash out the perfect assassination plot and then they'd come out and implement it without looking back.

They'd never gotten to that point because the case against Bracken had shaped up so nicely, but it was still there. Still that moment where they had both agreed it would happen, and so his guilt churned under the surface of every news item, every accusation, every charge leveled against her.

Seven weeks pregnant and it was spinning slowly out of his control.

"Castle. Boyd is in the elevator," Ryan reminded him.

So Castle got up to escort Boyd to their apartment.

* * *

The place was wearing thin.

Cover identities were meant to be used for long stretches of time; they were designed to withstand stress and testing and inquiries by foreign governments.

But they weren't meant for pregnancies and house arrest and the media spotlight.

Boyd shook Castle's hand and moved in to embrace him. "You're looking good, Richard. Tense, but that's to be expected."

Tense was an understatement, he knew.

"She's in here," Castle answered, pushing open the door.

Kate stood from the couch, looking absolutely no different from when he'd left six hours ago. It was always such a relief when she was still here, that the baby was still hidden, that they had somehow bought a little more time.

"Oh, good. This is good. Kate, you look healthy," Body said to her.

She met them at the back of the couch and kissed Boyd's cheek, smiling when he gave her that grandfatherly pat on the back. Castle guided them all to the couch and he sat down with his wife, felt her perch on the edge of the cushion with attention.

If _he_ was restless, she was about to come out of her skin.

"Bad news or good news?" she asked bluntly.

Boyd chuckled and opened up the bag he'd brought with him, pulled out a plastic medicine bottle and shook it. Pills rattled. "Supplements. We've tailored them to your physiology, but more importantly, with his DNA in mind."

Castle sat forward. "My DNA in mind - what does _that_ mean?" he rasped.

Kate leaned forward and took the bottle from Boyd's outstretched hand, closed her fingers around it and brought it against her like a talisman. "We've been talking."

"Richard, your DNA is essentially changed," Boyd said eagerly. "But to what degree, is it chromosomal, will your offspring inherit those changes-"

"Wait. Wait. Hold on. Kate?" He pierced her with a look and she met his eyes, squeezed his knee. Holy fuck. What had they done?

"It's okay, Castle. We've just been working out a prenatal plan. Just like I did with Mary - Dr Dennison. You've been trying to set me free, you've been out there, and I've been in here working on a project of my own."

"That's not - it's not the regimen though," he said roughly, searching her face for the truth. "That's not - we're not doing that to him."

"No, no," she hastily assured him, leaning in to lightly kiss his cheek. "Never. I promise you."

"Think of it as prenatal vitamins," Boyd said cheerfully. "Extra kick to keep the cell replication steady, to maintain healthy mitochondria and red blood cells."

"Healthy?" he asked. He didn't like the sound of this at all. "What is your definition of healthy?"

Kate bit her bottom lip and took his hand. "If we get the amnio done at 15 weeks, we'll know more. But that's a long time to wait without giving the wolf a little help."

"A little help," he echoed. _If _they got the amnio? He'd been sure they would. What had changed?

He wondered, stupidly, if this had been what it'd felt like for her when he and Esposito had barged into their bedroom and packed them a go-bag, when he'd told her that it didn't matter what she said, they'd run if they had to, they'd run if someone tried to arrest her and put her in jail.

She'd just packed a bag in front of him, basically, and told him their kid might have abnormal DNA and what if-

"Wait," he rasped, snatching the pills from her hand. "What about you? Dr Boyd, what does this do to _Kate_?"

"I'm fine," she insisted, trying to pry his fingers from around the bottle.

"She's fine," Boyd answered. "Dr Dennison is keeping a good eye on her. We're doing studies on mice too. The plan is solid. Just like if she was in trouble for Rh factor or preeclampsia - she's being monitored and we are all doing what we can to keep it going smoothly."

Castle released the bottle, but his guts were still churning. He hadn't even thought about it like that before, about what his fucked-up genetics might be doing to Kate, and his palms were damp with the suggestion.

"What about - what about like - immune response? Like when I caught a cold. What happens if Kate catches a cold? Or..." He didn't even know what to ask. He'd hated his father's experimenting so much that he'd closed his ears to the details. He had no idea.

But Beckett knew.

"It's fine," she told him, rubbing his arm. "Castle, look at me. I'm not lying to you about this. I wouldn't - after everything - I wouldn't keep it from you."

Boyd was nodding. "There's a good chance that the pregnancy is completely normal. That those changes to your DNA weren't chromosomal at all - it would take a lot to alter things on that level."

"Like forty years of regimen?" he said bitterly. "We're not doing that to this kid. To Kate. I don't care what - no. We're not doing it."

Kate squeezed his arm for his attention, and he lifted his eyes to look at her. She was so fierce, so _strong_ in this; she always had been when it came to him, to the regimen, to getting her way.

"Castle. I'm not injecting myself with the regimen. It makes us mere mortals crazy, remember? And the little wolf - he's not a five year old boy, he's not a man with a lifetime's conditioning. Besides the ethics of it, it's just not practical. All this is - all we're doing here - is giving me a little more protein and vitamins, some herbal supplements to promote health. Mine and his both."

He wrapped his hand around hers and held on for dear life.

He believed her - he wanted to believer her - but he knew how she could be, knew what it was like for her, and it just... it was an acidic taste in his mouth.

The timing of this was just so very wrong.

Boyd was standing up to leave, shaking their hands and heading for the door. Castle was on autopilot, just moving where he was supposed to move, closing the door after Boyd, seeing nothing.

"Hey," Kate said softly.

He turned and she was coming for him, wrapping her arms around him. He dragged his hands up her back and couldn't control how tight he had to grip her.

"It's okay. I held off explaining because I didn't want to scare you," she murmured. "Not until we had a better idea of what's going on."

"I thought the amnio was just - just routine," he choked. "I didn't know it was to check if he's - like me."

"No, I know. I'm sorry. It's not exactly routine. There's some risk, but it's minimal, and I think it's better to _know_. Don't you?"

"Yeah," he agreed roughly. "No, we need to know."

"And this is not the regimen. It's not even the stabilizers, Rick. After the amnio, we'll know if those are maybe necessary-"

"No, I - no, Kate." He'd - no. Not going to happen. They were _not_ doing the regimen.

"It's the injections that do the real damage," she said quietly. "The serum. We've been talking to Boyd for weeks now. Haven't you been listening?"

"Yes. No. I kind of - it makes me so angry," he muttered.

"I know," she whispered. Her fingers were soft at the back of his neck and she pulled him apart from her to look at him. He met her eyes and he knew his disconsolate face wasn't making her happy. She cupped his cheeks and brought him down so she could kiss his forehead. He stupidly felt better.

"You're already a great mom," he sighed, hugging her tighter.

She laughed, a choked sound, and he realized neither of them had said that word yet. Hadn't quite gone there like that.

"A mom," she murmured. "That's - so strange. Do you feel like a dad?"

"No," he admitted, cupping the back of her head and angling her for a kiss. She sighed into him, still not happy with his unhappiness he knew, but it was just going to take time to come to grips with it.

How everything was tainted by the regimen.

"It's okay," she hummed against him. "We're okay. Wolf and me, we're a team."

"Can I be on your team?"

She laughed. "Oh, you sound pitiful. Of course. You already are. You're our team captain."

"I like that," he grinned back, kissing her again. She arched into him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, brought their bodies together. He hummed. "Like that even more."

She was chuckling into his kiss, a little breathless sound as his fingers tugged at her shirt, and then she was pushing him back towards their bedroom.

"Away from prying eyes," she murmured.

Right. The cameras and security were because she was under house arrest for murder and conspiracy. She was seven weeks pregnant and under _house arrest._

"No, no," she said. "Don't. Don't go there. Stay with me."

He tried; he really did. He wanted to be happy.

But he couldn't find them a way out.

* * *

Why did it piss her off so much that her husband got to leave?

It wasn't like it was his fault she was stuck in here. This damn apartment. She hated it. Hated the vaulted ceilings and the wide front windows with their gorgeous view she had to stay on this side of, hated the handsome furniture and the gas logs in the fireplace that called to her to sleep curled up in front of it, hated the cooling fridge for the wine she couldn't drink, hated the expansive kitchen and all the wonderful food Castle cooked for her because they couldn't go out.

She wanted _out._

Five _weeks_ of living here. Which made her eight weeks pregnant. And okay, so she was still completely flat and there wasn't even a sign of it, but she was expecting it at any moment. Like her stomach would pop out or she'd start waking up to vomit or suddenly have to pee all the time and everyone would know.

So long as no one knew. So long as it was still a secret, she felt like they had a chance.

The pills made her feel _great_ though. She had a ton of energy; she was keeping up with Castle as they all pored over internal audit reports of their department, running rings around Esposito and Ryan. Seriously. It was - Castle was giving her these calculating looks, but it wasn't the regimen really. It was just being healthy, which said a lot for her normal state.

Still, she was seriously pissed when Castle got to leave.

Kate hadn't regressed to talking to her own stomach - she was deadset on that not happening, since the baby would hear her voice through natural, every day conversation anyway - but she didn't mind talking to the dog.

"Right, puppy? He's such a mean man, leaving us all alone, nothing to do," she whined, rubbing the dog's fur. She'd been up two hours before Castle and working on the reports, highlighters and pen in hand, when Castle had finally gotten out of the shower, dressed to go _out._

Sasha whined and ducked her hands, ran away from her.

She _was_ being annoying.

This would have to stop.

Five weeks of house arrest, eight weeks pregnant, and annoying her own dog.

"Sorry," she muttered and flopped back against the couch cushions, scattering piles of paper. She was tempted to turn on the news, but she knew she'd wind up wanting to throw things - like one of those expensive bottles of scotch in the study - or smash things - like that nice bottle of white in the cooling fridge. And really, she could handle this.

She thought maybe the pills Boyd had given her actually _did_ have stabilizers in them, because she was feeling it like a hit of caffeine and she wasn't even allowed caffeine.

Coffee. Damn, she missed coffee. Really badly. And wine after a long day. And sunshine on her bare skin even though it was raining again and miserable outside.

"Sasha?" she called.

The dog didn't come.

Kate growled and shoved the piles of paperwork off of her, stomped to the kitchen to make herself some tea. Decaf but at least it wasn't bland; Castle had gotten it shipped from that little market in Rome they'd discovered during her rehab after Russia.

She loved him for thinking of it; it was sweet of him. He wasn't a bad guy; he just got to _leave._

She started the water to boil - she had the time - and went back to grab the internal audits once more. She had the concentration for it, but she also had the patience that Castle often lacked. She could sit for hours in front of these reports and find connections where it took Castle too long to actually get a handle on it.

So it was back to the reports.

"Sasha?" she called, flipping the page with her highlighter in hand.

This time the dog came, loping towards her with her tongue hanging out like a grin. Kate leaned over and rubbed her fur, ignoring the constant twinge in her ribs, and then she stood up to face the reports.

* * *

The mattress had just gotten too lumpy, too hot (five weeks, four days under house arrest and she was absolutely sick of this bed), when her phone vibrated and pierced the three a.m. darkness. She came up out of a doze and climbed inelegantly over her husband - somehow they had switched sides last night when they'd... livened things up.

"I'll get it," Kate croaked, snatching up her phone before Castle could even reach for it.

Okay, she was stir crazy, yes. And her ribs were killing her again, so she probably shouldn't have told him _please harder_ but in the moment, it had been so very nice.

"This is Beckett," she answered, not recognizing the phone number on the display.

Castle groaned something into his pillow and turned slowly onto his back, snaking an arm around her waist. She shivered in the draft as the covers shifted, burrowed down into his side in the hopes of keeping her weight off her hip.

"Hello?" she said again when there was no answer. "Is-"

"Katherine?"

Oh, shit. His mother. "Martha? Are you okay?"

"Am _I_ okay? I - darling, I'm in a fit worried about you. What on earth is going on? The news reports have gotten just so awful, Katherine. So very awful."

She dropped her forehead into Castle's shoulder. "I'm so sorry we haven't called you since I was charged." Martha had sounded - not quite sober - and it was three in the morning. "We should have explained." They had said absolutely nothing to Martha about Bracken, but maybe they should have.

"I tried Richard's phone - or the last number I had, but all these numbers, darling. You understand. I can't memorize all these different numbers, every few months a different one."

Kate lifted her head to glare at her husband, pinching his bare nipple. He yelped and clapped his hand over hers, his eyes blazing in the darkness.

"You didn't give your mother the direct line?" she hissed. "You're sabotaging her."

"I can't trust her with that," he muttered, rubbing his palm over his chest. "Ow. That really hurt, Kate."

"She hasn't been able to get in touch with us," she growled back. _And I'm pregnant_, and somehow it made a difference. "Martha? Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm not going anywhere. Too drunk for that."

Kate chuffed, shaking her head and slipping out of bed. She reached for a t-shirt and managed to finagle it over her head as she talked. "I'm so sorry. It's been a crazy couple of weeks, Martha. I can't - your line isn't secure, and I can't give you a whole lot of information, but yes, I've been charged with conspiracy and murder."

"Oh, darling."

"I'm so sorry," she said again, the t-shirt dropping to hang just above her knees. Shit, one of Castle's. Oh well. "We should have thought to explain. If you come over, we'll go through it with you."

"Katherine, there's just - the matter of these audio tapes they have. They are just... horrific."

Kate stumbled at the door. Castle was burying himself into the warmth at her side of the bed, oblivious, but Kate felt responsible for this. And this was her child's grandmother - there was more at stake here than Castle's feigned dislike.

He loved his mother; he just didn't know how to relate to her. Or forgive her for giving him up.

"Those recordings are - first - out of context," she said quietly, slipping out of the room. She thought she heard Castle call her name, but she kept going for the living room, turned on the lamp beside the couch. "And also from a time in my life when I was doing it all on my own."

"Oh."

Martha might understand something about that. "I was working on finding who shot my mother, and it was - intense. I needed help, and I got it - your son. Rick kept my head above water. More than I can say, really."

"Oh, that's... and now? Everything is okay now?"

"We're working on it," she said warmly. She didn't know why she barely batted an eye at answering Martha's questions when the idea of that painfully private part of her life being put on display made her want to scream. Maybe because Martha had her own demons, Martha had failed her family too. Martha understood.

Castle came down the hallway then, concern etched into his features. He must have heard her telling his mother about the recordings. He sank down onto the couch beside her, his arm wrapped around her drawn up knee.

"Oh, Katherine. I just realized. This is the man. He's the one. And you had to..."

"He is the man," she admitted.

"Oh, Richard must be beside himself. Oh, darling."

"We're working on that too. Would you like to visit us so we can explain?"

"I shall do that," Martha stated firmly. "Today after the headache fades, I will descend upon you both. Can I bring you anything? Or is that not allowed? It felt like the cake was an exception."

"It's not exactly allowed," she smiled. "They'll search you - so be prepared."

"Katherine, darling, I will gird my loins." Martha gave a delicious laugh but it was strained, and then the call suddenly ended. Kate glanced at her phone to be sure, but Martha was really gone.

"I don't get her," Castle sighed.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and titled her knees into his lap. "She's your mother."

"Yeah, I know - we should have called her earlier."

"We?"

"Ah, I mean - _I _should have." He chuckled and brought his hand down her calf to wrap around her ankle. "Since we told her about the wolf."

She winced. "Oh, she sounded so - so hurt, Rick." And not sober. It was a step back.

Castle didn't say anything to that and she didn't want to tell him about Martha's lack of sobriety.

"I wish she could be trusted," he said then, his voice low. "If I thought it wouldn't come out at the worst possible times, I'd tell her things. I'm afraid telling her about the wolf was a really bad idea."

"Who does she know? And who even knows about her? Really, Rick, it's not like anyone from the office even knows she exists. We never talk about her. They all know my father. But your mother?"

"The difference being your father would die rather than expose his grandchild."

"You don't know that Martha's not the same," she murmured. The idea of her father being taken, held by some group to ferret out his secrets made her want to vomit. Her stomach rolled and she pressed her knees together, trapping his arm between her thighs.

"Okay," he said slowly. "You're right. I don't know. I guess it has to start somewhere."

Kate held her breath, stunned. But it had to be affecting him as well, the dimension that the little wolf added to every relationship, every encounter. It made things different already.

Castle sighed suddenly and rubbed a hand down his face. "Forgot to tell you. Carrie is here tomorrow to take Sasha out for a while. She's going crazy."

"The _dog_?" Kate muttered. "The dog is going crazy?"

"Yeah, well, the dog gets to leave. And you punish me for leaving when I get home, so I'll just stay put tomorrow."

Kate grunted and knocked her forehead into his jaw, softly, stretching out a little over him. He shifted back into the couch and she found herself reclining against his chest.

"If I fall asleep, wake me," she muttered.

"No," he said quietly. "Just sleep."


	8. Chapter 8

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

Castle stood as the Director entered the room, shook the man's hand. The Director had the firm grip of a long-time covert operative - intimidating Castle even as he was sizing him up.

"Thank you for seeing me," Castle said.

"If you've come for another favor," the Director boomed. "I'm fresh out."

Castle gritted his teeth and waited until the Director moved around his desk and sat down before Castle sat himself. "I need a favor," he said without remorse.

"Richard."

"I need access to Maine."

The Director frowned. "We still haven't found where the FBI is hiding him?"

"That's incorrect, sir - we've just found him. Finally. A farmhouse in North Carolina of all places. But it's heavily fortified, as you can imagine, and we're not looking for an incursion."

"Oh, hell, no, Richard. We are not. Let me make that absolutely clear. We cannot afford American lives to be lost-"

"No, sir. I know. Beckett would kick my ass out on the street. We're not going up against the FBI down there. But I need a face-to-face with Maine. He was getting fed information from inside the CIA, sir, and we have yet to discover the leak."

The Director leaned forward and scraped a hand down his face. "You're sure."

It wasn't a question, but Castle answered anyway. "Yes, sir. I'm sure. And they're still doing it - leaking stuff to the media. That footage from the security system inside the FBI? That's not a run of the mill source. The audio tapes from the NSA surveillance - we had that buttoned up. In fact, I thought we had that _erased_."

"Shit."

Castle crossed his leg over his knee and settled back into the chair, feigning a calm he didn't at all feel. Kate was nine weeks pregnant and still under house arrest, and now the fucking FBI wanted to mess around with the investigation, 'take it slow' so they had 'all their ducks in a row' and if Congress held an inquiry, it would never go away.

She'd be testifying before the Committee and everyone would know - everything - and then it would get back to his father about the pregnancy.

He had to find that damn leak.

"All right. I'll call the Attorney General and have him contact the FBI Chief."

Castle nodded; he knew the Director called the FBI Director 'Chief' in a derogatory manner since the position hadn't been labeled 'chief' since the 1920s. A direct meeting between the two would never get them what they needed.

"Richard," the Director said slowly, rubbing his thumb and forefinger from his nose and out along his eyebrows as if smoothing the unruly, white hairs. "Richard, about your father."

Castle's breath was suddenly too fast; he fiercely tamped down the reaction and regained control. "My father, sir."

"I - uh - I have an order on my desk requesting his termination at all costs."

"Yes, sir, I'd figured as much," he answered truthfully. He hadn't told _Kate_ that, but he didn't want her adding one more thing to worry about. A Capture/Kill order meant they would like him alive, but they weren't going to be picky. It had been bound to happen after all of this.

"Then consider yourself warned of the CIA's - and the AG's - intentions in regards to John Black. Son, do you know of any aliases?"

"John Black is his alias," Castle grit out. "And no, I don't know his real name. Though one night - twenty years ago or more - when I was first... I found a stash of his old passports. Things he was supposed to have turned in for burning. All variations on John or Jack - and the last names were... oh, I remember thinking they were code words for ongoing projects."

"Projects?" the Director muttered. "Elaborate."

"Like the name he used - Black itself - there was a Black Arrow going on. Black Ranger, Black Forest - Black Bird was another mission. Fox Hunt, Magic Hunt, Fox Brook Run... you know what happens - all the names keep getting circled back around time after time. Like all these latest ones are Enduring Freedom and Free Bird and Long Deliverance. They sound like porn videos for the Army."

The Director actually snorted, lifted baleful but amused eyes to Castle.

It's possible Castle should have censored that last part.

The Director moved on without comment. "So you remember that the names on those passports were current operation codes at the time?" The Director steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes. "Hunt. Fox. Black. Forest. All right. I can work with that, get a guy to circle names from that era and see what comes up."

"Yes, sir. You might find him. I will do whatever you need to help in that endeavor."

"You also understand - don't you, Richard? - that if he approaches you, you take the shot."

His mouth went dry. "Sir, I'd like nothing better, but I promised my wife..."

"Richard, you and I both know that he cannot be allowed out there with the secrets he knows. With what he has _access_ to. How many moles in your outfit _are_ there?"

He didn't know. He couldn't know how many people were still loyal to his father despite everything. It could be anyone, because Black had been in charge of the Eastern European sector for a long, long time. And before that... there'd been military projects, CIA black ops, Special Forces. Black had a thousand contacts and hundreds of resources spread over the globe.

The Director cleared his throat. "You understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he said finally. But the truth of it was, even when he'd made that promise to Kate, he'd thought he _would_ kill the man next time. "Yes, sir. You put in writing that I and my wife have immunity for that act, and I will not disappoint you."

"Immunity."

Castle didn't move, didn't blink.

"All right." The Director chuckled and reached for his reading glasses, slid them on. "You'll have it. Now let me see about arranging a meeting with Maine."

* * *

Kate was in the middle of bitching to the dog again - just talking out loud - when her eyes caught the line on the internal audit report and her breath left her.

Mitchell had done what?

She startled the dog with her hasty jump off the couch, but Kate didn't spare Sasha a glance. The report shook as she frantically flipped pages, backtracking to be sure she wasn't reading it wrong. The files from the Congo - she had never thought they'd actually give her something that related to this. But the code name - the code name was the same.

Had Mitchell contacted the listening station in Tunisia?

No. No, that couldn't be what it meant. Mitchell had only been called Lighthouse on missions with Black in charge, and for Lighthouse to show up in the Congo files meant nothing in and of itself. It could just reference a time when having regular communication with Black was legal and right. Mitchell had _told_ them he'd done things for Black he wasn't proud of, like sedating Castle at Ramstein when he'd tried to fly a plane back to Russia.

But the line items on the internal audit were right here in front of her, connection dates and times - nineteen of them as she counted rapidly, and five of those times were for _over_ an hour long. Lighthouse. It wasn't his work station, and it wasn't his log in handle, but it was his encrypted mission ID embedded in the connection request. Just like she'd found her own encryption ID in the requests she'd sent to Tunisia as well.

She hadn't known then that there were so many layers of checks and balances to the system, but she hadn't been thinking clearly then, hadn't been - not really - trying to hide what she was doing. Not even Ryan had known this stuff until the auditor had gone through it with them.

Mitchell hadn't seen any of this yet; he was working on her case, trying to handle the FBI. He had no idea how deep the auditor had gone, but he'd asked her questions lately, asked if they were getting anywhere.

Lighthouse. Contacting Tunisia steadily, an hour, five minutes, twenty seconds. Back when Reynolds had been in charge, but also when Black had taken over.

"No," she said out loud, shaking her head. "No. It's not - this isn't right."

Kate gathered all of the connection traffic reports - and there were reams of them - and she laid everything out over every surface of their kitchen counters. One twelve-hour shift at a time. Methodically, she started going back through them, paying strict attention as she stood hunched over the counter, ignoring the ache that had started in her ribs at the position.

It couldn't be Mitchell.

Lighthouse wasn't him.

* * *

Castle nodded to Esposito who had taken guard duty on the elevators, and he strode down the hall to their door. It was locked, which was weird, but he unlocked it and came inside the apartment.

It was a really nice place, fitting for a wealthy accountant and his top-tier-payment detective wife. It wasn't the penthouse which he'd heard had once been home to some tv producer, but it wasn't a bad place to be under house arrest in.

Kate was standing at the kitchen counter, poring over reports, chewing on her bottom lip viciously. She looked amazing - stunning and tall and filled with light - and again his suspicions about those damn supplemental pills wriggled in his brain like a worm.

Castle sighed and tossed his accountant's briefcase over near the couch; it slid and hit the coffee table, but he didn't care. He was tired and he felt wrong about the meeting with the Director and his father coming into it, and then knowing that Beckett was carrying around some potentially dangerous DNA didn't make him feel better about any of it.

It was all a time bomb. Kate was carrying around a-

No, he didn't - it wasn't that. It was just - the unknown of it and how it might hurt Kate - he didn't want it to hurt Kate. He couldn't survive it if he'd been the cause.

Castle shrugged his shoulders out of his suit jacket, threw it over the couch, and came for her at the kitchen counter. She stiffened when he embraced her, like she hadn't even heard him, but she dropped the highlighter and cupped the side of his face, turning into him.

She hugged him harder, buried her face in his neck, breathing in shallowly like she'd gotten into the habit of doing. He felt better for it, stupid as it was to be swayed by a simple touch, but she was still stiff, tense.

"What's up?" he murmured.

"I just - I don't know. I might have something," she said.

"That's good," he insisted, letting go of her and glancing at the reports. Looked like connection traffic - good place to start. "Is this-"

"No," she said, snatching it out of his hands. "I don't know what it is yet. I'm still looking."

He stared at her and she blushed - she was always flushing pink these days, like the blood was close to the surface and ready to rise at a moment's notice. She ducked her head and her hair fell forward; he reached out and tucked the strand behind her ear, but it didn't want to stay.

"Kate."

"I haven't figured it out," she said. "I don't want to say until I have more."

"Okay," he chuckled. She was turning and gathering the pages all together in one pile, but he stayed her hands. "No, don't mess up all your hard work. I won't look and beat you to it."

"You wish," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. He grinned and pushed a kiss in against her cheek. She smelled like lemons and the dog and too much time indoors.

"It's pretty outside today," he murmured. "I think it's warm."

"You're never an accurate barometer. I'd probably need a coat," she growled, pushing him away.

"Wouldn't that be thermometer," he asked, only to get a withering glance - _you know what I meant. _Castle shrugged and let her push him to the living room. "I got the Director to set up a meeting with the FBI - go over their heads to get custody of Maine."

"Oh?" She was pulling a bottle of wine from the cooling fridge. He shook his head and she sighed at him, but it wasn't like he could drink _for_ her - so he might as well abstain too.

"The Director asked me to kill him."

"Maine?" she hissed. And then she immediately realized. "Your dad."

"He's not my _dad_, Kate."

"Sorry, I - sorry," she murmured. "No. He's not."

"Your dad is more my dad than he _ever_-"

"I know, baby. I know. It's just habit because mine _is_, and I'm a little stir crazy. But the Director wants you to-"

"Well, not an active thing. It's not a mission, there's no task force. Not yet anyway."

"You said - I know you told me you would if he showed up again," she said quietly. "I don't think that's our best course of action, but Castle I... I don't know."

"That's pretty much the last thing we need to think about right now," he told her. She was pulling ingredients out of the fridge and arranging them on the dining room table. Apparently he was making them dinner - and she was keeping him out of the kitchen, away from her investigation.

"What did the Director say about Maine?"

"He'll get us custody."

"Okay, good," she said, handing him a package of ground turkey. "Good. We need that. We need him to talk. Did you ever find that guy who knew Maine in the service?"

"Yeah, Mitchell is talking to him."

She flinched and he lifted an eyebrow, ripping off the plastic on the meat. She turned away from him and put a pot on the stove top, flipped on the burner. When she came back to him for the meat, he shook his head and dropped the turkey into the pot himself.

"So what was that look for?" he said.

"I was thinking about our dinner. We've run out of spaghetti sauce." She went back to the stove and adjust the temperature, pulled a wooden spoon out of the drawer. "What else can we make?"

"I'll run down to the corner store and get some," he offered. "Not a problem."

She groaned and Castle turned back to look at her. "What?"

"I'm so _sick_ of being stuck inside this place."

He winced and grabbed her by the wrist, drew her in against his chest. "I know. It sucks. But this will end; we're working on it and we'll get there. The Director will get us custody of Maine and then it's all easy after that."

She nodded, detached from him to open the pantry. "I'm fine. Just frustrated. Go, Castle. Get us a few jars, okay?"

He watched her for a moment more, and then he turned to head back out. He'd get her something extra - flowers or that sparkling water that was orange-flavored and reminded her of Italy. Something to make her smile.

* * *

Beckett smoothed her fingers along the edges of the laptop screen, tried to come up with some other conclusions than the one staring her in the face.

It was Mitchell.

It couldn't be Mitchell.

The door alarm on her phone buzzed to let her know Ryan had made it, so Beckett scrambled off the couch to get let him in before Castle could come out of the study. From behind her, she heard Sasha jump up and follow her, and she tucked the laptop under one arm to skim her free hand over the top of the dog's head.

"Good girl," she murmured. "But it's just Ryan."

She opened the front door and her old partner stood there with a paper box full of reports.

"Got the stuff you asked for. And Melanie wants to know if you found something," Ryan said, coming inside and taking the box to the dining room table.

"I don't know what I've found," she muttered. In a strange display of dog-like behavior, Sasha jumped up and put her paws on the dining room table, nudging in close to Kate, her nose searching.

Ryan laughed and set down the box. "That's weird. Never seen her act like a dog before."

"I'm ruining her," Kate smiled. "All this time cooped up with me."

Ryan petted Sasha between ears, and Kate watched the dog close her eyes and lean into it like a cat. She shook her head and opened up the paper box, sighed at the amount of work there was still to do.

"Seriously though, Beckett, you've been asking the auditors for some really specific stuff. You got a lead?"

She bit her lip and looked past Ryan to the study door. Castle had been on a conference call with a couple guys posted in Berlin, but he'd be through at any moment.

"I've found something," she said finally. "But I don't know what it is."

"Enough to ask. Enough to worry," Ryan insisted. "And not tell Castle."

"Enough to make me cautious," she said finally. "If I bring this to him now, without being as certain as I can, and I'm wrong?"

"Who is it?" Ryan said. "Just tell me and I'll keep an eye out. If it's that bad, Beckett, you've got to tell someone."

She pressed her hands to the table and Sasha nosed in under her wrist, sniffing at the paper box. She rubbed absently at Sasha's fur and tried to find a way to say it. But it just had to be said.

"Mitch," she said finally. "Things that I don't... just keep an eye on him, Ryan."

Her friend sank down to the dining room chair, stared at his hands. "Mitch is the one... he's - it can't be. We're _sunk_ if it's him."

"Don't say anything," she warned. "Don't do anything. Just - someone on the outside should know and if I told Castle, I don't know what he'd do. He and Mitch are best friends."

"I know," Ryan said, bobbing his head. "Okay. I can - but you have to tell him soon. After what you did going after Black, this isn't the time for secrets."

She gave him a fierce look, struck to the core by how casual that accusation had come. But he was right. She had very little trust on reserve with Castle right now, and keeping secrets was a bad idea.

"I'm putting together everything I've got before I say something," she told him. "But either way - if I've proved him innocent or guilty, I'll take it to Castle by Friday. After the doctor's appointment."

Ryan didn't look happy, but neither was she.

It couldn't be Mitchell.

But no one else was Lighthouse.

* * *

"I don't know what's going on," he growled. Kate shot him a look and he tried to tone it down, but the Director was giving him the runaround. "This doesn't make any sense."

"I'm sure it's some political thing," Kate said finally. She was sitting at the dining room table with the dog under her chair. "It's taking more time than he thought."

Castle pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sank down into it, resting his elbows on the wood top. "You still have the sonogram she did?" he murmured.

Kate nodded, her fingers worrying at the edges of the stack of papers in front of her. "Hey, I need to talk to you about something."

"I thought Dr Dennison said everything is fine?"

"Not about that," she amended, laying her hand in the crook of his bent elbow. "I changed the subject on you. Wait. Let me get the picture she printed for us."

Kate stood and leaned in, kissing his forehead, and then she headed back for their bedroom. He knew she'd hidden it away somewhere, and he watched her move as he sat at the table, the long lines, the ease. Her ribs still hurt her, he knew, but the bruises had faded to mottled yellows and blacks and she was doing a pretty good job of ignoring it.

She'd only taken a grand total of three of those muscle relaxers, but at least she could sleep without waking every couple hours.

"Here it is," she said, coming back through the living room with the little square of paper in her hands. He pushed his chair out from under the table and took her by the wrist, drew her into his lap. Kate gave a surprised little laugh and leaned back against the edge of the table, pulling one knee up into his lap to side-saddle him.

He grinned back at her and wrapped his hand around hers, the ultrasound between them. "There he is," he said softly. Castle was determined not to let this day be marred by political maneuverings of the CIA and FBI; he wanted to remember this later as something happy, untainted. "Or she. Could still be girl."

"Not if he knows what's good for him," she laughed. Kate shifted in his lap and the photo rippled with her movement, almost like the baby was moving. He'd gotten to see the gray and black swirling around on the screen, this image one more to join the other still on the fridge at their house.

Kate came to lean in against him, her arm up at his chest to keep her ribs away, but she was smiling now. She hadn't been smiling all week until today. Castle kissed her softly and curled his fingers around the photo, brought it to his chest. "Can I keep it?"

"Yeah," she said, her fingers untangling from his. "Take it home. Where it'll be safe."

"I will," he nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'll do that." He rubbed her back with his free hand and glanced once more to the photo before sliding it into his breast pocket. "What'd you want to tell me about?"

She sat up straight and pressed her palm at his pocket, her face turning earnest and serious. "Castle, I think I've found something. And I need you to stay calm and walk through it with me, step by step, so we can be sure."

His heart dropped. "The leak?"

She nodded and stood up, reached for the sheaf of papers she'd collected in front of her earlier. He watched her lay one page after another in front of him and he scanned the reports to figure out what he was supposed to be seeing.

"You know who?" he asked, reading connection reports and alert edits and helicopter fuel requests. He had no idea _what _he was looking at.

"I have - there are suspicious things. I don't know what I know, Castle, honestly, and I've been looking at this stuff all week."

"All week?"

"I told Ryan," she said hurriedly. "And he's been keeping an eye on things out there, but I wanted to have something to bring you first."

He rubbed a hand down his face and let out a grunt. "If it's - if you've been sitting on this for a week, then it's bad. It's someone we're close to."

She nodded, that lower lip pulled into her teeth.

He laid his hands flat on the dining room table, remembered the photo in his pocket. Time to do this. "Okay. Lay it on me."

* * *

Her husband only stared.

She leaned forward and wrapped her hands around his knee, both of them hunched over the dining room table. The moment she touched him it was like a shock jolted through his body and he startled, his eyes flying up to hers.

"Mitchell," he breathed. The evidence wasn't even damning; that was the worst part about it, that the evidence was a thin daisy chain of one event after another, because that thinness made it more likely. Mitchell was good and so the evidence he left behind would be this slim, this tenuous.

"Castle," she said quietly. "It's not - this isn't proof of anything. Remember what you said to me? It's not the whole story."

"That was about you," he said harshly. "Of course they're wrong about you. This is..."

"Mitch," she said. "This is Mitch. And a few encrypted mission IDs don't make a case. Just suspicions."

"I'm gonna rip his-"

"Castle," she said sharply, tightening her fingers around his knee and cutting him off. "No, you're not. We'll present this to the team and we'll make a rational decision."

"He sold us out. He sold _you_ out, Kate. These damn reports - he never even _tried_ to look for you in Russia. Fuel requests are - that's something you don't think to alter, that's too detailed for a guy like Mitchell. This says there was one flight from that base and it was my fucking father on that chopper going out and coming back, and no more fuel requests."

"The base _does_ have flight plans logged for the other helicopter," she reminded him. "That says Lighthouse went out four times, so Mitchell was looking for me."

"But _no_ fuel requests. It doesn't match up," Castle argued. "Are you on his side? After everything you just told me - you can't possibly think it's not him."

She swallowed. "I don't want it to be him."

"But it is," Castle growled. He slammed his fist into the table and stood up, pacing clear of her. He was angry. She knew he'd be angry - shit, angry was an understatement - but she hadn't really expected wounded.

And why not? They were friends. Castle had been closer to Eastman through the years, but after Mark had been killed, Mitchell had fulfilled so much of that handler and friend role.

It wasn't a whole lot of evidence, just a few things here and there - breadcrumbs so faint that they weren't even breadcrumbs: the lack of fuel requests for the base in Turkey where Black had flown Castle out of Russia and supposedly gone back to look for her, an encrypted mission ID of Lighthouse attached to covert communications traffic between Tunisia and their Office, and finally, a secure call log erased during the very hour that the Director had called the FBI to warn them of the cuckoo Maine in their midst, that very hour Maine had taken her for a ride.

The secure call had originated - according to the report - from Malone's cell phone, but Malone was dead and there had been only one person in charge of the body.

Mitchell.

Lighthouse.

She didn't want it to be true. She'd started with Lighthouse and had ended up with that secure call log that not even Ryan had known was available on more than one channel. But she felt like she'd teased out all the other odd socks from the laundry of reports. She had gone into it thinking it was Mitchell, seeing Lighthouse blazoned across the reports, and she'd come away with a phone call that had been made from Malone's phone when Malone was dead.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't evidence. It was... it could be anything.

Castle was still and quiet, hunched over his knees with his head in his hands, breathing hard. She stroked her thumb along his thigh and lifted her other hand to her mouth, pressing back her own wounds.

They kept losing people. Too many lost.

Castle's phone rang and Kate stood and went to take it from his jacket pocket, answered it for him. It was McCord.

"Hey, Rachel."

"Kate?" the woman's voice clipped. She sounded pissed. "Kate. It's gone."

"What's gone?" Kate said, felt the panic bubble up under the surface.

"Everything. Oh my God, everything. It's all gone."

"What are you talking about?"

Castle's head came up and he mouthed _what now?_ She shook her head and reached out to grip his shoulder, leaning her hip against him.

"Kate, I don't even... one of the Secret Service agents who was here guarding the evidence locker said there was all this official paperwork. He said he got a call from the AG's office."

"No," she moaned. "No, Rachel. Not-"

"Everything we had against Bracken is gone."

"No."

Castle gripped her. "Kate. What's wrong?"

"Rachel. What happened to the evidence?"

"These damn federal agents came and took it. NSA, it said, but why the AG's office - that's _my_ office - would go above my head... It doesn't make any sense. They took everything, said it was above his fucking pay grade; they took _everything. _Even the damn furniture."

She couldn't breathe. Her ribs were tightening like a vise. "McCord says the evidence is gone," she told Castle.

"What?!" he roared, lunging to his feet.

Beckett swayed and held a hand out to stay him; he grabbed the phone from her and barked at McCord. Kate sank down on top of the dining room table and put her hands on her thighs, trying to keep upright, trying to breathe.

Everything was gone.

Lighthouse. Had Mitchell done this? How could he have... it couldn't be Mitchell.

"And where were the damn guards?" Castle growled.

She pressed her hand to her sternum and sucked in a breath, realized it was a panic attack only a second after it was already happening. "Rick."

"Why did _my_ people let them inside in the first place? We had it fucking locked down."

"Rick," she gasped again. The black spots were crowding her vision; she didn't think she could stay upright. "Rick, I..."

He caught her a second before she crumpled, gathered her too hard against him, the phone dropped to the dining room table. "Kate."

"Panic attack," she muttered. Her knees didn't seem to want to hold her up.

"Sit down," he said, already taking her to the floor. She sank gratefully on her ass and tilted her head between her knees despite the ache in her chest. Immediately, the blood pounded through her and suffused her senses, brought her back to awareness.

"I'm okay," she mumbled. "Okay now."

He released her arm but stayed close, fished the phone off the table. "Agent McCord? Yeah, no, we're fine. I need you to run point on this - get together with my guys there and see who let them in and why."

"And the AG," Kate said, feeling both dizzy and hyper at the same time, like too much awareness. "Have her call the AG."

"Right. Kate's right. Call your office or go down there if you have to. We're dealing with the mole on our end. Thanks. Yeah, I'll tell her."

He ended the call and put the phone on top of the dining room table, came back to sit beside her. Less hovering and mother hen than she'd expected, and she was relieved for that. She leaned her head against the chair leg and gave him a weak smile.

"I'm okay."

"Rachel said they cleaned out the whole room, took everything. She's getting on top of it."

"I've got - some stuff on the laptop here," she said. The adrenaline rush was still buzzing in her, and it had made the closed-off sensation more intense than it usually was. "And you do too, right?"

"We also have that hard drive from Malone," he added with a shrug. "It's not a lot. But it's something."

"We'll have to be careful. Shit. We just got men-in-blacked," she said, rolling her eyes. "We _are _the men in black. I can't believe I didn't see that coming."

"Mitchell?" he said. "If he..."

"I don't know. We don't know," she rushed in. "Castle."

But before she could caution him, their phones went off at the same time - the security alert for elevator access. Kate got to hers first, sliding it out of her back pocket while Castle was still reaching up for his on top of the table. Kate checked the monitor feed showing the inside of the elevator car and her heart dropped.

Mitchell was on his way up.

Castle jumped up from the floor and raced for the front door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

The elevator doors slid open the second Castle got to the end of the hall. Their eyes met.

Castle lunged at Mitch and slammed him back into the elevator car, the man's head crashing into the metal panel. Half-stunned, Mitch lashed out with a poorly-executed defensive block and Castle grappled with the man, trying to get enough space to punch him.

He caught a fist in his eye before he managed to get a knee on Mitch's bicep, pinning him to the elevator floor. It was easier then to land a vicious blow to Mitchell's face; he felt the bone shift under his knuckles.

The man groaned like a beast and lurched under him, feet kicking up and trying to tangle him, and Castle realized Mitchell was screaming through his bloodied nose.

"What's _gone_ - what are you _talking about_? Who have I fucked over?"

And then Castle heard his own voice, dark and snarling, "You_ left her_. You _left her to die_."

"What? Fuck, you're chok-"

"Without that evidence, she's _fucked_."

"Castle!"

Her voice broke his rage. The pause allowed Mitchell to drive him back into the open door of the elevator, his head smacking the metal and sharply clearing his vision. He lashed out with a kick and caught Mitch in the solar plexus; the man heaved but rolled to one side.

Castle staggered upright.

"Castle, _stop_," he heard her.

She was suddenly plowing into him, throwing off his aim and sending them both sprawling. He twisted just enough to cushion her fall, appalled at the thought of her tackling him with those bruised ribs. He saw Mitchell lurching to the corner and then dragging himself off the elevator and now Castle was struggling to untangle himself from his wife.

But she wasn't having it.

"Stop, Castle - stop. Stop it."

"What the _hell_, Castle?" Mitchell yelled, slumping down against the wall of their hallway. He touched his bloodied nose and growled a string of curses in Farsi. The language they'd learned together. He was going to pummel Mitch.

"Castle, stop. You have to stop," she was grunting against him, holding him inside the elevator car.

He finally managed to set her aside, but she darted around and positioned herself between the heavy drag of the elevator doors, standing in his way. He wouldn't - he didn't dare try to shove past her, not with her so - not with her.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Mitch. Sit the hell down."

Mitch groaned and slumped back to the floor, his head tilted back as he probed his nose.

Castle came close, his chest brushing against hers, his eyes on Mitch. "Kate," he growled at her ear. "Let me through."

"No. You'll kill him. And we don't even _know_."

"Know _what_?" Mitch garbled. "What the hell. Holy - you beat the shit out of me."

"Good."

"Look at him," she hissed, her hands dropping from the sides of the elevator. The doors clanged and tried to close again but she didn't move. "Look at him, Rick. If it had been him, he'd have run."

"Or he's so good - so deeply buried that he thinks we'd never-"

"What the hell?" Mitchell groaned again. "I was on my way up to _warn_ you. They're coming, you asshole, and you're fucking _tackling_ me? My _nose_."

Castle took a breath, drenched in adrenaline and sweat and fury. "Who's coming."

Kate dropped her hands and circled his wrists, led him out of the elevator. It shut with a crash and immediately headed for the lobby.

Castle didn't take his eyes off Mitchell. "Who's coming," he repeatedly tonelessly. The rage had drained out of him and been replaced with hollowness.

Kate kept him from stalking towards Mitch when the man said nothing, but her noise of alarm caused Mitchell to look up at least. He flinched and tried to get to his feet.

"Mitchell," she hissed. "If you know what's good for you, sit down."

"He's gonna take a swing at me - I'm gonna be on my feet for it."

"Sit down. He's not taking a swing at you."

"Oh, yes, I _am_-"

"No, he's not," she insisted, glaring at him. She gripped his wrists harder and pushed him back against the opposite wall. "Castle. You're not some damn thug. My _husband _isn't some macho asshole. So get your shit together."

"He _left_ you to die," he scraped out. "He stole _everything._"

"Steal? What the fuck did I steal? And I didn't leave her to - what the hell are you talking about?" Mitchell thundered. He winced and touched his nose gingerly, groaned as he sank back to ass. "Fuck, this hurts. I need some ice, Beckett. Can I get up and get some ice?"

"No," she said. "Who is coming?"

"Oh, shit. The NSA. The NSA took _everything._"

"We know that already. It was _you_," Castle burst out, shoving past Kate to grab Mitchell by the collar of his shirt. "The NSA took _everything_ that would save Kate and you-"

"No! No, it wasn't me - why the fuck do you think I'm warning you?"

"Castle," she warned him. "So help me, if you do not _drop him_-"

He released Mitch's shirt but he didn't step back. Mitchell pushed himself up to his feet and glared back at him. "You're being an asshole. You wanna lay off me?"

"Mitchell, I'd be quiet if I were you," Kate said. "We have evidence against you. That you betrayed us. So Castle isn't in the best mood."

"_Betrayed you_?" he hissed. "What the _fuck_? Castle. I have done _everything_ to make this up to you - every day since I fucking took you down in Germany-"

"Took me down?" he snarled.

"I did what Black said because you were killing yourself trying to get to her," Mitchell yelled. "I gave you that damn sedative because you were breaking yourself to pieces trying to get out there. You _had_ to stop. Someone had to stop you."

"What are you talking about?" Castle growled. "You left her. You promised me you'd go back for her but you didn't."

Mitchell cut a look to Kate, so bewildered, so _hurt_, that Castle startled backwards.

"What are you - I did go looking. Beckett, I swear, I looked for you. I told you it was a needle - I found the car but you were nowhere nearby and I have spent every day since then trying to make it up to you. I swear to God."

"Make it up to me?" Kate rasped. "What did you have to make up for?"

"I tricked him," Mitch said, pressing the back of his hand to his nose to stem the blood. "I told him it was just a little - but we put him under for days. Days. And you were out there. I thought you'd died; I really had. You weren't at the rendezvous, you weren't - and here he was, killing himself to get to a fucking a plane and no flight plan, no plan at all. Shit, Castle, man, you couldn't even _see_. You had those white spots in front of your eyes, remember? And you were trying to fly into Russia blind."

Mitchell stared at him and he stared at Mitchell, and Castle had nothing - there was nothing he could say to that. It was history, long gone, and whatever guilt festered about Kate being left in a cave to die - that was all on Castle. Not Mitch.

At least, not if Mitch had actually gone looking for her.

"This isn't about Russia," Kate said quickly. "This is about now - this case. We've been looking for our traitor-"

"And you think it's _me_?" Mitchell yelled. "Are you kidding me? You think I'd wipe out the evidence room when _Malone_ was murdered by that asshole? And _you_ - I'd leave you out to hang? No way. No fucking way."

Castle narrowed his eyes. "You're either very good or-"

"Listen to me - hold on. The NSA are on their way _here_. They're coming for whatever you got, for _both _of you. You gotta put this aside for a moment, Castle, and you gotta listen to me. The NSA are gonna be on that elevator."

Castle looked over at Kate and she raised an eyebrow. So he stepped back. "Okay, all right. The NSA are on their way up. Why?"

"They're taking over the whole thing. I got there right at the end, when they were taking the damn furniture - they took everything, man - all of our files, every last _computer_. They took it all. And they're headed up here to take what you've got as well."

Before Mitchell could even finish, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

* * *

"Shit," she breathed. "Mitch, stall for us."

Castle flinched but Kate dragged him down the hall, both of them sprinting towards their closed apartment door - she had swung it shut on the dog who'd been more than eager to get involved. Castle was at her back and hopefully blocking her from sight since she technically wasn't allowed out. She heard Mitchell calling out a boisterous greeting to the men filing off the elevator right as she and Castle hustled fast through the door.

"I guess you trust him," Castle said.

She turned to look at him. "After that?"

"He could be acting."

"You know he's not," she said, moving away from him to grab all the reports off their dining room table. The NSA were here to clean house, and she'd had enough of disappearing evidence. "That was real. - Hey, grab those. - I know you believed him too."

"Because I _want_ to believe him. But I can't let my emotions about Mitchell get in the way of-"

"Sometimes," she shot back, "you gotta go with your gut. Grab these, Castle - and, oh God, the Congo files. They _cannot_ find those. I have that all on the laptop."

"The laptop's in the bedroom. You're sure Mitch-"

"I don't know who the mole is, but they're not stupid. They left just enough so we'd fight with each other while they went around cleaning this up. Now, hide this."

He sighed at her, but she was reasonably certain he wouldn't attack Mitchell again. The dog followed her wolfishly into the bedroom, slinking at her heels and skulking around the door. She knelt down in front of the bed and opened the laptop, her palms sweaty at the idea of men outside coming to take - everything.

Her?

If they found the files on Black's work... they couldn't. Castle - their _baby_ - everything was exposed.

The door thudded with the agents' knock and Sasha barked, the fur on her ruff standing up. For half a second, Kate was shocked by the dog's ferocity, by the teeth and growl, the aggressive stance, the wolf that dominated all her other, sweeter aspects. And then Sasha whined and backed up into Kate, that touch of body to body that signaled her herding and protective instincts, like Sasha was the mama wolf.

"It's okay," she whispered to the dog. She took a moment to drag her fingers through Sasha's fur. "We're okay. Castle's out there."

They pounded on the door a third time, rattling the walls with the force of it, and she heard Castle's sharp reply as he opened up to them. Sasha stayed on her feet in front of Kate, and the gesture of support actually made Kate's chest tight, like she would cry.

She hooked her fingers in Sasha's collar and dragged the Congo files to the flash drive, one after another, hoping there would be enough time. She didn't know what was going on out there, but Castle could keep them occupied for a while, could hold them off with the excuse of her bruised ribs.

She managed to copy over the whole folder - it'd been pdfs of the Congo information - so she started moving the Bracken evidence over. One folder and the zip drive was full. One folder. This wasn't going fast enough; she had one more zip drive and the damn laptop was so new it didn't have a dvd slot to burn the information.

Before she went further, Kate used the shredder program on the laptop to destroy the Congo files. No one could ever see those.

Satisfied all trace was gone, she got off her knees and went hunting through Castle's bedside drawer for more data storage. He always came home from work with things in his pockets - like he _wasn't_ a cover operative who was keeping secrets for a living - and he dumped them in here when he got undressed. She found a lot of change, a few pens, a pack of gum, wads of paper - what a slob, jeez - and two more flash drives.

She jammed it home and started copying more files. It wouldn't be enough - it would barely skim the surface - but she needed to get the most crucial information. The video files, the transcripts from testimonies, the things that Malone had been bringing her as well - all in that satchel.

The external hard drive.

Surely Castle had another one around here somewhere. She scrambled to the closet and started going through their stuff - the collection of things they'd shoved inside since they'd been here for the last six weeks. He had spare parts for the laptop, weirdly enough - battery, a few fans - and she found a case of handwritten notes that she'd never seen before. Castle was always taking notes though, on everything, jotting things down and later coming back to them, writing her letters that he sometimes never even gave her.

What a terrible spy he was. Seriously, his personal habits were just...

She rifled through a big box he'd brought over from home - stuff she'd thought was just for her - and at the bottom she found an external hard drive.

She yanked it out and gathered up the cords, headed back into the bedroom. She couldn't believe how much _time_ she still had, how he had managed to delay them this long.

Maybe they weren't taking her into custody.

Kate took a second to concentrate on the voices she could hear from the living room, plugging the hard drive into the outlet. She connected it to the computer and suddenly Castle's voice cut through loud and clear.

"And she's free to go? I do this, and she's free to go."

He did _what_?

Kate ignored the files, shoved the two full flash drives into the cushion of the chair, and barreled out of the bedroom.

Castle was _not _trading himself for her.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Kate said. She was heading too fast down the hallway and it had alerted one of the agents standing closest; he was moving for his hip holster and Kate at the same time.

Castle shouted a warning and rushed forward to get between them, shoving the agent back and cleanly taking the gun from his fingers. "Are you fucking insane?" he hissed, still blocking Kate as she tried to move around him.

"Castle, what are you doing?" she said again. Panic laced through her voice.

Mitchell had already pulled his gun on the other guys, weapons drawn inside the apartment, and now here came Esposito and Reynolds through the front door.

"Castle-"

"Why the hell are you pulling a _gun_ on my _wife_?" he growled.

"I didn't know-"

"Why would you pull your weapon _at all_?" He shoved the man again, so furious it boiled in his veins. "Are you trying to kill us? She's under house arrest and you're here to fucking make a deal and you think you're somehow in _jeopardy? _That your life is at risk?"

The green agent turned bright red with shame; his superior, the man Castle had been talking with, barked at him. "Stand down. Fuck's sake. Stand down, Patten."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir. It's just the reports we read on them."

That gave Castle a nice warm glow - the idea that the damn NSA held dossiers on his wife - but Kate was already sidestepping his protection to get a look at the scene.

"What deal?" she said. Her eyes bore into his.

"Not like that," he growled. "Neither of us are going anywhere."

The taut line of her shoulders went down an inch.

"Espo, Ren - we're fine. Just a young idiot overreacting," he told the guys. They hung back, holstering their own weapons, and Castle ejected the clip from the gun, removed the bullets entirely before giving it back to the green agent.

Patten was scowling at him.

"Whatever the report said," Castle told the kid, "we're alive and most everyone else who's crossed us - they're not. So I'd settle down and listen to your team leader, stop trying to be a hero."

He gestured Kate ahead of him, away from Patten and his surly demeanor, and they headed back for the team leader.

The NSA agent was silently fuming. Castle didn't give a fuck. "Kate, this is Agent Denver. Denver, you'll forgive us if we seem skeptical-"

"Fucking paranoid is what it seems," Denver grunted.

"-but we've had bad luck with place names," he finished dryly.

"I don't even know what that means," Denver said. "Are we doing this or are we giving training lessons to my guys?"

"Which would you prefer?"

"Just sit the fuck down, Agent Castle. Agent Beckett."

Neither he nor Kate sat down. They had a tendency not to follow directions too. It also gave him a shot of pride that his wife was such a gorgeous badass; she just didn't take crap from anyone. A guy came at her with a weapon; she handled it. She always handled it.

"Fine," Denver bristled. "If you please. We have a lot to talk about. The first being that a US Senator is dead and the country needs a scapegoat. So you might want to listen to what we have to say."

"I already told you," Castle answered. "She goes free. Completely. Innocent of all charges, her record at the 12th is clean, IAB drops it. Everything."

"In exchange for what?" Kate said. This time she sank to the couch across from Denver in the chair and Castle reluctantly followed. "What do we have that you want?"

"Give up Maine."

Castle growled. "That man abducted my wife - one of my agents - and he-"

"What does that mean?" Kate interrupted. "Give up Maine."

"The NSA has its own open investigations. We aren't at liberty to discuss."

"You'd better discuss," Castle said. "This man - I want his head on a spike in front of my Office for everyone to see what happens when he rides against my team."

"But you want your wife's freedom, don't you? More than Maine."

Fuck, yes. But-

"But Maine is _my_ scapegoat," Kate answered calmly. "If he disappears into the NSA's hands, then the public is only left with me. So you're still not doing us any good. Tell us why you want him and maybe we can work out shared custody."

"This isn't a case in family court," Denver said. "This is serious."

"Then tell us why," Castle said easily. His voice sounded calmer than he felt. He was writhing inside, caught between wanting to nail Maine to the wall and wanting to take the deal and run, take Kate far, far away from here. But she was right - there were no guarantees.

Agent Denver placed his hands on his knees and gave Patten a long, hard stare. He shook his head and finally answered. "The NSA has an open case against John Black. Maine can get him for us."

* * *

Beckett didn't want Black to be _got._ Not when her husband's life might depend upon the knowledge in Black's head.

But they didn't have much choice, and there was already a CIA Capture/Kill order out on the man.

She watched as the NSA agents methodically and ruthlessly tossed the apartment. Castle had given up demanding things, had started packing their bag, hopefully doing something about the hard copies of the Congo files, but Kate was stuck in the middle of the living room.

There wasn't much of a deal when the NSA could do whatever they wanted. It wasn't a deal at all, actually, because they'd stopped talking to her and Castle, had just _moved on_. Agent Denver had called in his guys and they'd mercilessly put their hands all over everything, going through their files, digging through their things.

She'd shredded the documents on her laptop, hadn't she? Yes. Yes, she'd made sure they were gone from the computer. The paper originals were in their safe at home, not here, and Castle was dealing with the flash drives.

At her side, Sasha issued a warning growl as one of the men in black got too close. The man actually took a step back, but he didn't stop running his hands through the couch cushions, and then he pulled out a knife and flipped up the blade.

Sasha barked, teeth flashing.

"It's okay," Kate choked out, dropping her fingers to the top of the dog's head. But it wasn't okay.

At least it wasn't their home. At least it was just the cover apartment.

But after so long, it had grown on her.

A sudden thought hit her and she gripped the dog's collar, dragged Sasha down the hallway towards the bedroom. Castle was sloppily folding clothes into a suitcase. Every item had already been inspected by Denver himself, and had been deemed cleared to leave the apartment. The flash drives?

"Rick," she said. She could hear the catch in her voice, but she couldn't control it.

He rubbed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. There's nothing - they've cleared out the evidence room, Kate. I can't see any way out of this."

She shook her head, pressed her lips together. "That's not-"

"I know you wanted justice for Bracken, and I swear to you that Mason, Mitchell, all of them - they'll work on getting the truth brought to light. I promise you that Bracken will _not_ go down as some kind of fucking hero."

Kate lifted her chin and blew out her breath slowly to keep from getting choked by it. "It's not that," she said roughly.

"I know it's not ideal right now, but I don't know how long we'll remain in the NSA's good graces, Kate." He leaned in close and gripped her by the shoulders; desperation was burning in his eyes. "They could let you take the fall - they could - they don't have to charge Maine with anything at all. I just - I just want to get us all out of the country until this is cleared up. Until it's _safe._"

She nodded and let him fold her into his chest; she'd had to come to that acceptance nearly an hour ago when the NSA had basically told them to get the fuck out of the country or be prepared for a court case.

She would never have run from this if it was just her. It made her sick to think that by defending her own life, she had made Bracken into a martyr. The man who had murdered her mother had turned into the unjustly accused, and if it was her alone, if the wolf didn't need her protection, she'd be here, making her stand.

This had always been her fight.

Castle wouldn't have liked it, but he'd have stood with her.

But the baby made it impossible.

"That's not it either," she whispered against his neck. Her throat tightened and she skimmed her fingers up his chest and finally to his shirt pocket, felt the edges of the sonogram photo and let out a quick breath. "It's this."

He pressed his hand over hers with a grunt. "James," he croaked. "I forgot this was in my pocket."

"They'll search us," she murmured, panic cresting suddenly over her. "Castle. I don't want to destroy it, rip it up. I can't-"

"Hide it," he said. "We'll hide it."

"Where? How? They're being _very_ thorough. A guy just attacked our furniture with a switchblade. And the flash drive with..."

She felt the mattress bounce at her thigh and lifted her head to see that Sasha had climbed up on the bed, standing over their pile of clothes like a guard dog.

"Sasha," she said, pulling back from Castle. "The wolf with the wolf."

"What?"

"Here," she said. Kate grabbed the ultrasound photo from his pocket, her breath hitching when she caught sight of the blur of grey on black. She took a breath and folded it in half, in half again, and then she reached for Sasha. "Here, puppy. Come here."

Sasha came obediently, sat down just beside the suitcase. Kate didn't know how much time she had before another agent passed through to inspect their bedroom again, to watch over them, and she moved fast. She unlaced the belt of Sasha's collar, tucked the photo up into the buckle, and then she relaced the belt once more. The collar was so wide that it completely hid the edges of the photo.

"They won't search the dog?" Castle said, reaching out to comb the fur down around the collar.

"They're all afraid of her," Kate answered. "She keeps growling at them."

Castle laughed, a tight and choked thing, but he leaned in and kissed the dog. Right between her eyes; Kate didn't think she'd ever seen him do that before.

"You're going to give her a heart attack," Kate said. "So much love. Right, puppy?"

"Wolf with the wolf," he said back, smiling at her. "Help me pack. Doesn't need to be neat, just get it all in."

She knew that meant they'd be shaking their tails - whomever it would be trying to follow them - and they'd make a run for home. Their real home - the house on Broome Street. But not for long. "We'll go to Rome," she said. "Or Cyprus for that second honeymoon you promised me."

Her throat was tight with it; everything they were leaving behind, but everything they were leaving to protect.

"We'll be back in time," Castle promised. "I'm getting you back home before..." He trailed off and skimmed the back of his hand against her stomach. "Before this."

She nodded; she believed him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Close Encounters 17**

* * *

The NSA made it clear that she and Castle were to leave the US for the duration of Maine's trial; they wanted the man to feel there was no hope for him. The inquiry into Senator Bracken was now under their control - which meant they were going to cover up their own part in their dealings with him, but it also meant that they could offer Kate immunity for the senator's death.

Maine was being set up as the fall guy - the orchestrator of both Bracken's death in the woods at the hands of the Westies and also Beckett's kidnapping from federal custody. Under Denver, the NSA had been conducting an investigation into former Agent-in-Charge John Black - but it had been at the behest of Senator Bracken, who had foiled Black's every attempt to climb the political ladder inside the CIA.

Apparently the rivalry between them was well-known.

Agent Denver thought Maine would roll on his boss when he was faced with the full weight of the charges against him. He was looking at conspiracy and murder and possibly seditious acts violations. Kate didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, but she didn't like the way this was being arranged with no regard for true justice.

There was no _truth_ in this. Bracken would be made out to be a martyr, a man crusading for accountability within the clandestine services and effectively assassinated for it.

But there was nothing they could do; Kate had not recourse, not when she had to think about more than just herself.

So they packed. The flashdrive with the Congo files was tucked into Sasha's collar along with the sonogram photo, and her ruff of fur hid the bulky belted collar without a problem. The NSA agents oversaw their evacuation of the cover apartment, but Mitchell met them at the back of the property with his Charger.

Castle was giving the man dark looks, but Espo and Reynolds had left to salvage what they could at the Office, since they could be trusted. So Kate slid behind the wheel and adjusted the mirrors, watching Castle carefully as he sat in the back of the two-door with Mitch. Sasha got the front seat with the window cracked, but the wolf in her seemed entirely too attuned to the tension in the car. Neither man could be that comfortable in the cramped backseat, but Kate knew that despite their wish to trust Mitch, they couldn't. Not yet.

She drove them home - _home -_ the excitement curling in her blood, stretching and reclaiming. She wondered if the baby would feel like this, this same sensation - a sense of other, of home, of anticipation.

Shit, her ribs still ached when she had to sit like this.

"Don't take Fifth," Mitchell spoke up from the back. "There's a four-car wreck. You'll have to-"

"Let Kate do the driving," Castle said. His voice wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either.

"I believe you," Kate told Mitchell, aiming her voicing for the backseat, checking his face in the rear view mirror. He looked grim. No wonder.

"Let me at least lay out my defense," he said then. "You can't - it can't stand up, whatever you have on me." That his plea was entirely without cursing or desperation spoke loudest, and it made Castle pay attention, she could see.

"So, lay it out."

"I don't know what I need to defend against. Tell me what you have and I'll - something has to be wrong. Fabricated evidence can't withstand careful scrutiny. We all know that."

"The requests for gas fill-up for the chopper," Castle said immediately. "You told me you would look for her."

"I did. I looked - every means available. The chopper I came on to get you both from the steppe - I'd taken it out before, when I went looking while you were knocked unconscious, Castle. But that's not the bird Black used when _he_ went back."

"Do you know for sure he went up?" Kate interrupted. She doubted it. She couldn't imagine Black going back for her.

"I... no. No, I don't know for sure. He told me he had when I got there. But it took me two days to extricate myself from that situation in Cairo and get to you in Turkey. Black and I both escorted you, Castle, from Turkey to Germany, but I went back at least twice looking for Beckett."

"On the chopper?"

"No. On a cargo plane. No airspace incursions were allowed. That shit blew up in our faces, Rick. You remember. It was their own damn nuclear lab. So what I was allowed to do was very limited. And see, I was still under the impression that Black had gone back immediately to the site to look for you, Kate. There was no reason for me to doubt that. None of us knew what he was really doing, so I took it at face value when he said he'd gone back to look."

"I doubt he did," Castle growled. "So the fuel requests for the chopper - why are there _none?"_

"Because I didn't use the damn chopper. Not the SAR chopper; I couldn't. I just told you that."

"So? You used _a _chopper. Fuel requests-"

"Fuck you, lay off me and listen when I explain. The Chinook - the Search and Rescue choppers - those are the only choppers on Ramstein that you send fuel requests for. Government shit - trying to keep track of how many non-personnel usages or whatever. The French have four Gazelles at Ramstein that we use for observation and _those_ were the choppers I had to use."

"But Lighthouse."

"What about it?" Mitch said with exasperation.

"We found communication requests to Tunisia from Lighthouse."

Mitch swore darkly. "How the hell... how _many_ of us get called Lighthouse, Castle? Seriously. It only means you're Agent in Charge of the op. There are probably five at any one time. And even if they had my encrypted ID - well, fuck. People can steal that shit. I didn't call Tunisia until I called looking for _you_."

Kate released her grip on the steering wheel as relief flooded through her. She believe him; she believed it. She had to bite back the urge to _cry_; stupid baby hormones.

"It wasn't you," Castle said roughly from the back.

"Wasn't me. I didn't fucking sell you out."

There was a grunt from the backseat and Kate knew without looking that Castle had just gripped Mitchell by the back of his neck and pulled him close. Maybe not quite a hug - Castle didn't hug his CIA guys - but it was something.

It wasn't Mitch. It couldn't be Mitch.

"Fuck, get off me," Mitchell muttered. "What I want to know is - who the fuck set me up?"

* * *

Home was a relief, short-lived though it had to be.

Mitch had dropped them off with the promise to meet up with Espo and Reynolds and go through whatever was left at the Office. He wanted to clear his name for good, though Castle believed him.

Maybe he shouldn't, but he did.

Castle left the suitcase at the foot of the stairs and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lemon floor polish and laundry detergent and honeysuckle - the unique flavors of their home together.

Kate was reaching back for his hand, but he snagged her first and dragged her in against him, their hips crashing together.

"Whoa," she laughed, staring at him with that breathless little hitch.

"Remember that promise I made?"

"What?" she said. Her eyes were bright, that brim of relief touching the love in her irises.

"I'm keeping my promise not to waste a single second, now that I've finally gotten you home."

Her lips parted, that sentiment in her eyes disappearing in favor of lust. "Oh, yes, I like that promise. Lay it on me."

He grinned and dropped his mouth to hers, a consuming kiss, letting the urgency overwhelm him. She was hot against him, her tongue completely wicked, her moan the kind of thing he usually heard when they used handcuffs.

He had to cradle her face and put her away before he dragged her upstairs. Or right here in the foyer on the hard wood floor, and she deserved better than that. She deserved _dinner_ first, at least. Shit.

Kate was smirking at him when she caught his hand, tugging him with her; he followed as she led him through the living room and into the kitchen.

She opened the back door for Sasha and the dog bounded out into the meager yard, eager for her own space again. He and Kate stood in the open doorway and watched the dog roll in the grass, sliding her muzzle and all the way down her neck against the patchy lawn.

"Well, she's glad to be back," he laughed.

"Not for long," Kate sighed. "I wish we could take her with us."

"She'll haunt the trees on your dad's property," he answered. "They'll keep each other company, those two lone wolves."

"You're right," she smiled finally. Castle nudged her back from the open door and closed it, guiding her towards the kitchen counter. "What do you want for dinner? I'll make something to celebrate being home. Though we only have a night."

"Pork tenderloin," she said immediately. Her hand pressed low over her abs and she grinned. "Hm, I think that's a craving."

"Yeah? Pork tenderloin is a craving?" he laughed.

"I _love_ that cranberry glaze," she moaned. It might be a little put on; she was probably teasing him. But it worked.

"Yeah, I can do that. I actually bought a couple of pork tenderloins when they went on sale before Christmas and I froze them. So I don't even have to leave the house for ingredients."

"Was this fit of domesticity before or after you nearly died of a super bug?" she said pointedly, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Castle barked a laugh, surprised at how easily she'd said that. "Point taken. Before. When we went up to your dad's cabin that week, I'd bought it then, thinking I'd make something for you."

"Fate intervened," she murmured, sighing again. He ignored that and moved for the freezer, pulling out the bag of pork tenderloin and dropping it on the counter. He had everything for glaze as well, since it was unfortunately _canned_ cranberry sauce with a dash of white wine.

He turned around to look for a bowl, found her watching him with such love in her eyes. She was trailing her fingers over her stomach, her gaze on him. "Castle, we're going to have a baby."

He grinned, his heart tripping in his chest before hurrying up again. Abandoning dinner preparations, he reached out and cupped her elbows, pulled her in against him. "Yeah, we are."

"Sometimes it doesn't feel real at all, and then sometimes it's so _here_."

"I know," he said. He did; he knew exactly what she meant. He nudged between them and pulled the ultrasound photo out of his pocket once more. They'd gotten it past the NSA agents without a hitch, but he'd rescued it from the dog when they'd gotten to the car.

Kate was watching as he unfolded it; he studied the gray smudges, the more distinct shape of the baby's head, the rounded curl of the body like a semicolon. Such a small thing still, safe inside his wife, but one day it would be here, boy or girl, their child to love and raise and teach right and wrong, numbers and letters, languages and books and cultures. How to be good, how to have dignity, how to be a friend, how to love.

It was an impossible job - it would take a lifetime - but already it filled him up to think about Kate teaching their son to be gentle with the dog or how to whistle for Sasha, helping the kid write his or her name, bending over the tub to get a bath.

He'd do anything to keep that dream, the spark of almost here. He'd do anything for her.

"Put it on the fridge," she said then, "with the other one. Put them together. We'll leave it here, where it belongs."

He rubbed his thumb over the sharp corner of the ultrasound photo, turning towards their refrigerator. The first one was up, front and center, held there with a magnet.

She laughed. "Pizza delivery?"

"A joke," he smiled, glad she'd caught it. They never ordered pizza to be delivered.

"You're a goofball," she murmured, but she slid her arm around his waist and stood before the fridge with him, surveying what magnets were available to hang the photo.

"I'll use the watermelon one for the new picture." It was more of a question.

"Watermelon?" she said. She had a funny sound to her voice that he didn't understand. "You saying something about this pregnancy?"

"Oh, ha. No, not like that." Right, one of those damn videos they'd watched online had mentioned giving birth to a watermelon. Shit. "No, I thought a watermelon seed. I don't know. Maybe too much of a stretch."

"Oh," she said softly. "I like that. A seed." She turned her head to him and gave him a look he couldn't read. "Actually, more like a grape."

"A grape?"

"About that big now." She took the watermelon magnet and closed it in her hand; she didn't move to do anything more with it. She just held it in her hand.

"Come on," he said finally, still using a finger to keep the picture there. "Put it up, Kate. And then you can help me make dinner." Give her something to do, rather than think about how everything could still go wrong.

She quickly let the magnet thud against the fridge, holding the sonogram in place. Keeping it safe until they could get back.

* * *

Kate's heart beat fast when she drove their Rover past the city line and went north towards upstate New York. Her father had been at the cabin for the last few weeks, avoiding the press who'd camped out at his apartment in the Upper East Side. His law office had allowed him a temporary position, mostly doing reviews from home, but Kate knew she'd upset his normal routines with her arrest.

And now she was coming to him free. All charges dropped in a very public press conference this morning; she and Castle had attended, receiving an official apology from the Director of the FBI and a commendation from the NYPD for her work undercover. Maine had been charged and his alleged crimes listed to those in attendance, and even though the link to Bracken's death had been unspoken, everyone understood that had been the reason for his arrest - pending further investigation.

Afterwards, as if they needed reminding, she and Castle had been told in no uncertain terms that they should be out of the country come Monday morning, or else public opinion would be turned viciously against them.

By the time Kate pulled onto the gravel drive, crunching through an inch of freak snowfall, her palms were damp with nervous tension.

She didn't know how to explain this to her father; she was _running away_.

Bracken was dead, but the world had no idea what kind of man he'd been, what he'd done to her mother, the organized crime syndicate he'd been running for decades. Senator Bracken had died a hero of his nation.

If she thought about it too long, it made her sick at heart.

"Kate?"

She turned off the engine at the prompt of his voice, glanced over at her husband. "Yeah."

"I'm right here," he said quietly. He was studying her, his palm open on the center console for hers; she wasn't alone.

"I know," she said, reaching out to take his hand.

He squeezed and then let go, opened the car door to get out. Sasha barked from the backseat, relief evident in her wagging tail as Castle let her out. Kate followed on her side, and then grabbed her bag from the back, sliding it on over her shoulders. They'd spend the weekend and then leave for Cyprus Sunday night from the little airstrip near her father's land.

She took in a deep breath of clean air, reveling in the sheer _space._

The trees were crisp and lightly dusted with snow, but the late morning sun caused the branches and spring grass to rustle with melted runoff. The trickle of water came down over them in showers as they headed for the cabin, Sasha already rushing towards the lake and the crowded line of evergreens at the shore.

"We won't see her for the rest of the day," Castle chuckled.

"No, probably not. Good idea to leave her here with my Dad. I think she loves Carrie, but Bo gets on her nerves after too long."

Castle reached out and took her hand, their fingers lacing as they stepped up onto the porch. _After too long_. Because they didn't know how long they'd have to be away, didn't know what the NSA's plans were for Maine - for Black either - and their future was liminal. Of course, in twenty-eight weeks, there was definitely one certainty - the little wolf would join them.

But join them _where_, no one could say.

She knocked on the door and it was opened immediately, her father standing there with his arms already coming around her in a choking embrace.

"Oh, Katie," he whispered.

She closed her eyes and squeezed him back, felt herself being pulled through the doorway and into the front room. "Hey, Dad."

"I saw the news conference. They've been running it all day since. You're truly free to go?"

"Mostly," she hedged, letting him go and stepping back. She swiped at her eyes and laughed when Castle wriggled his eyebrows at her. She shoved him down the hall towards their room. "Unpack. Let me talk to my dad."

"Do you need-"

"In a minute," she murmured, letting him know.

He nodded and carried their bags back down the hallway. Kate took her father's hand in both of hers and squeezed. "Dad."

"Well, that doesn't sound as relieved as I'd expected," he said, sounding falsely cheerful. His smile was brittle. "What's happened?"

"Castle and I have been asked to leave."

"Asked to... leave? Leave what?"

"The country," she cracked.

"What?" Jim's voice was hoarse and he shook his head, gripped her hand harder. "You have to leave the country."

"The NSA has custody of Maine, as you saw on the news. They want to focus on putting together a quick trial. As soon as the trial is over, we should be safe to come back."

"Should be?" he echoed. "This is ridiculous. Kate, you're a US citizen in service to your country. They can't do this."

"Dad, there's something else," she said tightly, the guilt twisting in her chest.

"What else?" he said, looking at her horrified. "The baby-"

"No, no," she said hurriedly. "Not that. He's fine. It's all fine."

"He?"

She flushed and shook her head. "No, I don't know. Just better than 'it' all the time."

"He, then," her father said, his smile warming.

Kate chewed on her lower lip and tried to put it together, everything that had to be said. He was distracting her with this. "Dad, listen for a second."

"I'm listening."

Castle came back into the room and she turned to look at him - for inspiration or help, she didn't know - and then she just said it.

"Senator Bracken is never going to be held responsible for mom's death."

"Kate-"

"No one will know. The grand jury has been dismissed. He dies a senator, and he - he's going to be buried in the national cemetery. With colors and a Special Honor Guard."

Her father looked struck.

"I'm sorry," she rasped. "I'm so sorry."

"Kate," her husband said softly. She shook her head to keep him away, her eyes on her father. Jim rubbed a hand down his face and his eyes opened on hers.

"You make it back here before he's born," he said roughly.

"Dad. Mom's killer is being buried-"

"I don't care," he said. His voice was harsh, overly loud. "I don't care. You two come back safely with my grandson, and all is well."

He grabbed for her shoulders and tugged her in against him, wrapping her up in a bear of a hug, the same embrace from her childhood when she'd come home frustrated or unhappy with school, as if the force of his strength could squeeze out everything else.

"Dad."

"I don't care, Kate. You listen to me. Your mom's been gone for a long time. When I quit drinking, I had to come to terms with that. I'm not sure you ever did - at least, not until that man watching over you. Rick, come here, son."

Kate huffed but stepped away from her father, let Jim crush Castle into a back-slapping hug. She got a chance to wipe the tears pushing into her eyes, making them disappear before they'd ever started, and she smiled through Castle's low _thank you, Jim_.

"You take care of each other," her father said, releasing Castle but squeezing hard on his shoulder. "And Sasha and I will do the same."

"We're flying out to Cyprus on Sunday night," Castle said. "Spend the weekend with you and then go on from here."

"Of course. Of course," her father said gruffly. "Really, you two, I'm just so relieved that Kate's not being prosecuted for this. Clearly a case of self-defense and yet our government - I don't know sometimes. Everything that's happened - to Johanna, to you, it just - it makes me wonder."

"Ah - and more has happened. Kate didn't tell you about everything," Castle went on.

"What did I miss?" she said sharply, frowning at him.

"Rick?" Jim asked.

"Castle. What are you-"

"My father is the reason for all of this," Castle said gravely. "He put Bracken onto the work we were doing against him, trying to set up Kate. It was his plan."

She reached out for him, gripping his forearm. "No, Rick-"

He turned his head, his eyes bleak on hers. "Don't deny it, Kate. It's all because of him. And now the NSA - who were in Bracken's pocket - have the chance to run down Black like a dog. And I hope they do."

Sometimes, she could shake him, her stubborn, blind husband. He didn't get it. He never got it.

"Katie?"

She worked her jaw and turned to look at her father, sighing. "It's - mostly true. Speculation on our part, but it makes sense that Black would, since he was the only one with the specific information _to_ set me up, and Castle was left out of it quite conspicuously."

"Also," Castle added, "the NSA's investigation into Black started because of Bracken. So they're going to protect his reputation, they're going to fight for it - which is why they're kicking us out of the country. They don't want Kate or me to start making noise about what kind of person Bracken really was; they'll lose their authority for having been his lackeys all this time."

Her father rubbed his chin. "It was the NSA who were following you around - who were bugging your apartment a few years ago, right Katie?"

She nodded, tangling her fingers with Castle's to keep him from moving away. He had the tendency to punish himself over this - this one thing - by closing himself off from her and her father, as if he wasn't good enough for family.

No more. And not for this, for Black. She wasn't going to let that man claim any more of their time.

"Well," Jim said quietly, "I don't think that information changes anything, son. Your father has always been - ah, not ideal - and we know what to expect. Let the NSA find him, maybe they'll be able to serve justice."

"But for mom," Kate started.

Her father interrupted. "No more, Katie. The man who killed her, Dick Coonan, Rick killed him to save you both. And the one who ordered her murder - you had to shoot him to save yourself and the baby. There's been enough of death. It's done. Death can't be reversed. I'm grateful you two - _three_ - have survived."

Kate wrapped her free arm around her father's neck and pressed in close, tugging Castle in with her. Her husband cleared his throat, but she felt him in the hug as well, strong against her side.

"Enough of this," her father said roughly. "Enough. Let's walk out and find Sasha before she hunts out the baby foxes."

"Foxes?" Kate laughed, releasing the two. "You have foxed out here."

"Well, I did - wild red foxes, totally bewildered by the crazy snowdust we got here. We'll see if I still have any left after Sasha ferrets out their hole."

Jim was smiling back at them and pulling her along towards the kitchen door; she went after him and tucked her arm in his.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"I don't know what the next few months look like, but we'll get back. I want him here with you and Sasha. As much as possible. I want him to have this, the woods and your lake, the foxes and the dog, and - all the things you taught me here and in the city. I want him to be - a strong kid."

Her father brought his hand up to cup her cheek, kissed her forehead. "He will be already. But I'll do my best by him. Sasha and I will keep him outdoors."

Castle came up at her other side, evidently allowing her and her father that moment, and he caught her eyes with his own. His smile was hopeful, all those dreams in his eyes.

She didn't know what they'd do after their so-called vacation in Cyprus, but eventually, given time, they'd be back here at her father's cabin, carrying their child out to face the softly-falling snow, giving him his first look at the winter trees.

When they got to the foxes' den, Sasha had already found one out of its hole. Their wolf had laid down on her belly to nudge the petrified fox with her nuzzle, sniffing at it. The baby fox squeaked, high-pitched and pitiful.

Castle called the dog softly, and Sasha's ears perked, but her whine was confused. As if to say, _what's wrong with it_?

Castle came to both their rescues, scooping up the baby fox and depositing it a few yards away.

"Sasha, with me," he said. And even as the dog came to their side, the baby fox bounded away, free and relieved, and Kate couldn't help feeling the same.

A caught-out fox - but running.

* * *

**Close Encounters 17: On the Secret Service**

**end transmission**

Stay Tuned for **Close Encounters 18: License to Kill**

Due to real-life time constraints, starting May 29th I will post on a non-regular basis until I return from vacation on June 11th. CE 18 posting will continue, but posts will not be on any set schedule.

Thanks for reading!


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